


Stone Cold

by duskomybloom



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Chaptered, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gore, Half-Vampires, Horror, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phandom - Freeform, Phanfiction, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Trippy, Vampire!Phil, Vampires, captive dan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duskomybloom/pseuds/duskomybloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan has just broken up with his girlfriend of three years and gone to the club to get drunk and forget about it for a night. He meets Phil, an attractive man who pretends to be a mysterious drug dealer, and finds out that Phil is not nearly what he seems. What does Phil want from him?</p><p>Modern London AU where Dan and Phil don't know each other and Dan is dragged into a world of nightmares he never thought existed (aka Phil is a vampire, kiddos)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Little Pill

 It wasn’t that Dan didn’t like her. He’d had his fun times with her, and he knew he’d continue having fun times with her if he had stayed. He’d get to keep on playing with her long red hair, keep getting sweet girl kisses and sweet girl hugs and all of that. 

He also knew there was a bit of himself that he hadn’t explored yet, and it was nagging at him every time he saw a guy on the street and couldn’t help but turn to look. He’d seen her question him with her eyes, but she’d never said anything. 

He’d also known for a while that the guy he kept seeing wandering around at their regular night club gave him a feeling in his belly that was a bit different than just wanting to be friends with someone. The flutters in his heart that he couldn’t control when the guy walked past and he thought the pale skin might brush his own, when his electric blue eyes got anywhere near Dan (Dan’s eyes dropped, of course; he didn’t want to be weird), when Dan scanned the crowd and found a jet black fringe... that was when he tried to keep himself from wondering. He told himself the guy was just interesting, that was all, and Dan wanted to know what kept him at this particular club almost every weekend. The guy could have wondered the same thing about Dan and his girlfriend, but Dan was also sure the guy didn’t know he existed.

When she confronted him today, it hadn’t been more than a simple question: “You like that guy that’s always at the club, don’t you?” 

Of course he’d thought about it. Of course he’d always wondered if it would mean he was gay, or if he was bi or something. Of course he’d tried to shove it to the back of his mind because he obviously liked girls, and he didn’t want to think about it any further than that. Plus, no one had ever caught on or asked him about it. In fact, now that he had been dating her, people probably never even wondered. 

Except, she’d caught on. She’d wondered. She’d asked. And he had spluttered, trying to come up with an answer; he’d never answered the question when he asked himself, even. He’d never let himself answer. 

“It’s fine,” she’d said, looking down at her shoes as he struggled. “I mean, if you’re unhappy with me because you want to go out and find some guy--”

“No! I’m happy with you. Being with you has been my life,” Dan protested, hating that defeated expression on her face.

“Yeah... but I’ve seen you. It’s obvious, Dan.” She sighed. “You’ve never been with a guy, have you?”

“No, of course not,” Dan defended. 

“Yeah, but you want to,” she countered. 

Dan turned away from her. He put his head in his hands and thought about all the times he’d wished he was a little less bound to a relationship, so he could go out and have fun, try something new. 

He’d never entertained the thought for long, but the fact remained that he had still thought it, and that it was enough to make him pause. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” he said brokenly.

“Yeah. Okay.” He could tell she’d been angry, but she was trying not to show it; she’d gathered her stuff and left. 

Later that night, when the tears started pricking at Dan’s eyes despite a mini marathon of Buffy and a few hours of mindless video games, he figured it was time to go out, to the only place he knew would serve drinks strong enough to make him forget that three years of his life had just flown out the window.

When Dan arrived at the club and situated himself at the bar, alone, he glanced around to see if the black-haired relationship wrecker was here, but he didn’t spot him amongst the dancers, nor at the various tables that lined the perimeter of the club. Maybe the guy was in another room, but if Dan didn’t see him, it was just as well. He imagined a scenario where a piss-drunk Dan, raging at his recently acquired single status and his newfound attraction to men, found the pale-skinned heathen and took a swing at his face; it was a satisfying picture, but nothing he wanted to end up being responsible for. Dan was normally a pretty quiet bloke; he didn’t want to stir up trouble.

“Hey, Julia,” he offered to the woman closest to him behind the counter. Her stick-straight blond hair swished behind her back as she turned to see who was addressing her.

“Hey, Dan,” she returned pleasantly. He was one of the only few men who had never tried to hit on her while she was working, and for that, Dan knew she appreciated him. Consequently, she’d become almost a friend of his, with how often he frequented the club with his girlfriend.

“Where’s your girl?” Dan had known the question would come up, be he still sighed and looked away anyway. 

“We broke it off today, actually.”

“Oh no!” Julia’s face fell, and she reached over the counter to pat Dan on the back. “You’re probably looking for something a little stronger today, then, aren’t you.”

Dan wasn’t a heavy drinker; he only ever had light, fluffy sort of drinks that his girlfriend had always called “frou-frou”. He didn’t really want to think about that right now. In fact, he wanted to forget. “Yeah, that’d be great.” He gave her a tight lipped smile. 

“I’ll make up something... and this one’s on the house.” Julia gave him a wink, giving his shoulder a little rub before she left to make him a drink. 

Dan wasn’t really sure what she handed him. He wasn’t the biggest connoisseur of hard alcohol, and he’d never remember the obscure name she gave it, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to remember the drinks he had. 

He was on his third when he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. He turned, and was just about to explain that no, he didn’t want to dance, he already had someone paying for his drink, when he was startled by a pair of blue eyes that seemed to cut into him like a shards of ice. His breath caught. 

“Hey, mate. You’re looking sad.” It was the guy. The black haired guy. The relationship wrecker. He was wearing a smart, deep blue button-up that made Dan’s simple jeans and t-shirt ensemble look like it was from a second-hand shop, even though Dan had only bought the shirt last week. He spoke in a heavy Northern accent that made Dan’s mouth fall open slightly. “I’m Phil. What’s your name?”

It took Dan longer than it should have to find his voice. “Dan.”

“Mind if I sit down, Dan?”

“Sure,” Dan acquiesced automatically. Inside, he waffled about what to do as Phil sat; the scenario where he punched Phil in the jaw and yelled about him to the entire club seemed far away now.

“So, what’s happened? Get fired? Just gone through a breakup?” Phil asked, staring into Dan’s face intensely.

It was an extremely personal question, too personal to be the first thing asked after just meeting someone. But Dan’s intoxicated, sluggish brain couldn’t think of a different response other than the truth fast enough. “Breakup.” Dan took another sip of mystery drink from his glass, a good excuse to get away from the brightness of Phil’s eyes, and winced at the harsh taste, though he’d been doing this for at least an hour now. 

Though it was none of his business, Phil reached over Dan to place his fingers on the rim of the glass, lightly sliding it away. Dan was going to protest, but just then he caught a whiff of Phil’s scent, strong when he was this close, and his synapses seemed to short out as all rational thought stopped. He couldn't even identify it; it just smelled _good_. 

He leaned forward as Phil drew away, following the heavenly fragrance, before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. He would’ve never allowed himself to entertain something like this normally, would he? He didn’t know. Everything in his mind was fuddled, like he’d immersed his inner self in a swamp.

“Hey,” he protested, shaking his head. Phil tsked.

“Alcohol’s not the best way of coping, you know,” he said, a mothering quality to his tone. 

Dan’s resentment at this condescending statement reminded him of why he was angry at this guy in the first place. “What are you, my fucking therapist?” he spat with sudden renewed venom, reaching for his drink. 

Phil put a hand lightly on his chest, keeping him at bay while Dan extended his arms, and Dan wondered fleetingly if Phil had been out in the cold; his hands were freezing. “No, not at all! Not at all,” he chuckled. Dan glared. “I just have something that might work a little better, that’s all.”

Dan dropped his arms and searched Phil’s face. What could he mean? A better drink? A rest? Some kind of meditation or new age “positivity” crap? Or was Phil coming on to him?

“Uh... what’s that?” Dan squeaked.

Phil gave a short glance around, presumably to make sure no one was watching or listening to their conversation; Dan took this time to notice that Phil’s fringe was a mirror of his own. No one was sitting around him, the bass from the dance floor was blaring, and Julia was on the other side of the bar, preoccupied with another customer. She was probably not going to come back over here now that Dan had a friend.

Phil rummaged around in his pocket for a moment before he extracted a small plastic baggy. He shook it out into his hand, letting a tiny, round pill land there. It was pinkish red, sort of like an ibuprofen, and Dan had no doubt that it could have been easily explained away as a pain pill. Yet, it shined up at Dan almost menacingly, as if it knew its own deception, and it loved it.

Dan’s eyes widened. “Um. I’m not. I dont--”

“Don’t take drugs? Yeah, I gathered that. You don’t really seem like the type.” Phil leaned down closer to speak into Dan’s ear, and Dan shivered. “But this-- this is something I’ve been working on myself for a few years now. Does fine with alcohol, isn’t addictive. Won’t make you do anything awful that you’ll regret in the morning. Completely safe.”

Dan stared at the offending red object sitting so innocently on Phil’s hand. Was this a sort of salesman tactic? He wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going to pay you for this thing, I don’t have--”

“Free of charge.” Dan frowned; what was the purpose of this?

“Look, mate. You’ve tried to sell me, you’ve failed. Now would you just--”

“I call it my ‘Happy Little Pill’.” Phil went on as though Dan had never interrupted. Wasn’t this what people said American businessmen were like? This was awful. “Doesn’t make you forget anything, doesn’t make you really have a high, even. Just makes you feel really... _happy_.” Phil’s eyes shined as he talked about his little creation. “No day after effects, though _you’ll_ have some with all the drinks you’ve had.” Phil wrinkled his nose. “Much better than alcohol. With alcohol, you just... you drown in your own sadness, but you don’t even remember it in the morning. I mean, look at all these people.”

Phil swept his arm in the direction of the rest of the club, and Dan’s gaze followed almost against his will. 

“They’re all here because they’re unhappy, for some reason. They all came because they weren’t having as much fun as they wanted to have, even if they were alight before they came. They all came here looking for something. Do you understand?” Dan remained silent, taking in all the dancers, laughing wildly, and all the people at tables, talking to each other, holding onto their drinks like their bottles were their lifelines. Phil put his mouth to Dan’s ear and whispered. “What if you weren’t looking for anything? What if you didn’t have to forget, because all of the sudden, everything you needed was right here?”

Dan was really listening now. He knew it was all a ploy, all just something to get him to take the pill and come back to Phil again for more, when he’d actually have to pay. But he couldn’t resist the idea. He could really use it about now. And... he’d never really felt what Phil was talking about, had he? He was always searching for the right major, the right people, the right path in life, the right _person_. He was almost curious as to what it would feel like.

Phil let the pill slide out of his hand and roll to a stop next to Dan’s. “I’ll leave this here, shall I? I’ll be in the back. There’s a few rooms there. If you have any questions, or, if you want to have some fun...” 

Phil’s mouth curled upward into a suggestive smirk, and Dan felt heat rush into his cheeks as Phil’s inviting blue eyes bore into his own. 

“I’ll be in room seven. I’m usually back there, anyway. See you there, if you want, Dan.” Phil dropped a subtle wink-- or did he? Dan wasn’t positive-- before he stood up from where he’d been leaning over Dan, and Dan could breathe again. 

“Wait, could you tell me--” Dan started, but Phil was already gone. 

Dan reached out for his drink absently to find it wasn’t there; Phil had taken it when he’d left. Instead of grumbling about this as he was inclined to do, he stared down at the little temptation Phil had so kindly left him with.

“I saw you talking with Phil!”

Dan gave a start and covered the pill with his hand as Julia approached once more. “Yeah,” he confirmed.

“That’s so wonderful! You should make friends, Dan! Everyone says he’s so nice... he’s always here making my customers smile. He seems like such a kind soul.” Dan scowled; _sure_ , Phil made them smile. _I wonder why,_ he thought sarcastically.

“Your customers came back, didn’t they?” 

Julia laughed. “Of course they did! He doesn’t bite. He always cheers up the sad ones, it seems like. What a lucky guy you are, Dan.” She winked at him, and Dan stopped himself from rolling his eyes in frustration. Did _everyone_ know he might fancy Phil? “He’s always back there. We save room seven for him every weekend; he’s one of our best customers.” Julia positively beamed. “Go talk to him some more, Dan, he’s such a ray of sunshine. He’ll cheer you up in no time.”

Someone called to her just then, and she gave Dan an encouraging grin before attending them. Dan uncovered the pill, staring at it. Was Phil really a nice guy? Was he really as trustworthy as Julia made him out to be? Did Phil really just go around trying to help people out?

Dan didn’t know, and he had no idea of knowing for sure. But he knew that if those people Phil had sold stuff to had all come back, then what he’d said about it being a one-time hit must be true, right? 

He gulped, closed his eyes, put the pill in his mouth, and dry swallowed it before he could convince himself otherwise. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's just taken the pill, for better or for worse, and he quickly figures out that it isn't like Phil said.

Dan didn’t know what he expected, but when he opened his eyes, nothing had happened. He didn’t know how long he would have to wait; but now that there was no turning back, dread of what was to come settled heavily in the pit of his stomach. 

Truth be told, he didn’t know what on earth Phil had put into his "present", or if all of it was a bluff to get him to be a guinea pig for Phil's new product. For all he knew, it could have been the equivalent of being roofied, and he was about to get raped and wake up not remembering a thing. There were no reasons he had to trust Phil, only the strange pull toward his beautiful blue eyes and intoxicating scent. Dan’s inebriated state and eagerness to get rid of the discomforts of the past day had also put him at a disadvantage. He was impressionable, more than willing to try something stupid, too trusting. 

But nothing was happening, and he began to think after another fifteen minutes of waiting that he should have just kept on with his drinks. He could still form thoughts coherently, as it were, and Phil might have just handed him a salt pill for all the effect it was having on him. 

Julia finally noticed that Dan's hands were empty, and she took pity, striding over to talk to him again. “What did you do with your glass, Dan?”

“Phil took it,” he muttered. He wished ardently that Phil didn’t exist as Julia rolled her eyes. 

“He must have been worried about you! Cute. But it really wasn’t necessary. I’ll grab you another.”

Dan uttered his thanks as she bustled away, propping his elbow on the counter and resting his head in his hand. It occurred to him that he wasn’t being the least bit smart, letting someone at the bar make him their own drink, taking pills from strangers. Now that he thought about it, Phil’s ploy all seemed rather stupid... _I mean, come on_ , he thought to himself. _A pill that just makes you happy, without repercussions? It’s got to be a ruse._

It was then that he heard a whisper as thought it were being spoken next to him, more amplified than it should have been. “ _Do you want to go back to my place?_ ”

Dan whirled around. There was no one within the next few meters of his seat, especially no one he could have heard whispering. Yet, a couple at a table a long ways away were cuddling and kissing, and Dan distinctly saw the woman’s mouth move in time with the next words he heard. 

“ _How far away is it?”_

And suddenly, it was as though he had plugged headphones into every conversation in the club and turned up the volume. He could hear people across the room laughing, a middle aged man telling a joke to his mates at a table not too far away from the first couple, the clinks of glasses being set down all around, the slurp of a woman sipping at her drink. He could hear the clock, too, ticking away, and could hear Julia’s heels in clacking as they neared him. As she slipped his next drink onto the table in front of him, he sensed something else, too, more than heard it-- a low, quick thumping that beat out of time to the music that was playing on the dance floor right now. In fact, he could feel several of them. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._ Like a heartbeat--

“Are you alright, Dan?”

The noise didn’t cease, but Dan pivoted slowly to face her, unable to keep himself from noticing the slight strain in her voice. He blinked, and she came into focus... too much focus. He could see the exact lines she had made with her lip pencil and exactly how much of a difference there was between its color and the lipstick she wore; he could see all the little crevices in her irises, lined with brown and bits of green; he could see the pores in her skin, the way her foundation caked over them, and the hairs she had missed when she was plucking her eyebrows. 

Dan cleared his throat. “Sure.” He saw disbelief flicker across her face before he turned his attention to his drink, and she walked away to attend to another customer. Her clothing swished and rustled against her skin. Shaking his head, he tilted his drink up to his mouth, ignoring the smudged fingerprints he could make out on the rim, along with faint lip lines that hadn’t quite disappeared with the last wash. 

He choked, hard, as the taste exploded on his tongue, far stronger than it had been before. There were too many notes coloring it to identify exactly what they were, overwhelming his senses with their intensity. Setting his drink down, he made himself swallow what was in his mouth, gagging on it. What the hell had she put in it this time? Or had he just not noticed that it’d been this strong?

Julia hurried over to him a moment later. “God, Dan, are you alright? Do you need some water?” 

“Uh...” Dan eyed the taps behind her, which were covered in oil and rust that he hadn’t observed before, and shook his head. “No, thanks. It was just really strong for a second, I’m fine.” He didn’t slur his words; they came out perfectly clear. Julia squinted at him.

“Are you sure? Sorry about that... maybe you’ve had enough to drink for the night...”

As she spoke, time seemed to slow down, and Dan became aware of all the different sounds of the room once more, distinct and clearer than they should have been, seeming to tangle and weave through each other. And there was the thumping again, a hundred soft rhythms pumping gently in tune with the people in the club. Every other sound faded until the world was unsuitably quiet, all save for the soothing beating of blood as it was pumped through the bodies surrounding him.

As Dan’s reality slowed, a feeling of satisfaction coiled in his belly and spread out to his limbs, peacefully sliding through them until he was entirely filled up with a calm sort of contentment he had never felt before. He let it settle in his veins, feeling himself relax, and took the moment to appreciate that he was alive, that the unmistakable heartbeats he heard were breathing life into the world. He listened, at ease, immersed in a silent wonder. 

The thumping grew louder. 

He moved his head, sluggishly, watching the club members nearest to him barely moving with how much the seconds had drawn themselves out. Their lips hardly moved, barely beginning to form words that they might eventually speak, if Dan watched them long enough. The liquid in their glasses stayed at an angle, tipping with unfathomable languor toward their mouths, like clear, sparkling tar, and the dust particles in the glow of the dim lights were stationary, floating suspended like stars in space. Dan wished the moment would last forever, the way he could look around the room and see everyone nearly frozen. 

He blinked. 

Without warning, the stillness shattered, the cacophony of noise rushed back, and the warmth emanating from his stomach spread like fire, ripping through him, not unlike sexual pleasure. He gasped, throwing an arm out to steady himself and completely knocking his glass off of the counter. It broke into a thousand sparkling pieces that he watched scatter separately across the tile.

“Dan!”

In a flash, Julia had rushed around the counter and was helping him up from a floor he didn’t even realize he’d fallen to. He could still hear everything too clearly, but the pleasure was gone, leaving him with a pounding behind his eyes, a strange soreness in his jaw, and an unidentifiable dryness in his mouth that needed to be satiated. 

“Dan, you should go home.” Julia’s eyes shone with concern as she sat him back on the bar stool. “Do you have someone you could call? I don’t want you walking home like this.”

It was sweet of Julia to care about his wellbeing, and Dan was going to give her some expression of gratitude when he was interrupted by another wave of tingling euphoria. 

“I... ah...” His eyes glazed over for a split second before his awareness came back. He definitely needed to figure out what was happening, and fast, and there was only one person who was going to be able to give him answers. “I’ll... ask Phil.”

He struggled off the bar stool and took a ginger step down; his balance seemed to be okay, at best. “Can you walk?” Julia worried. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Dan murmured. “Thanks Ju...” he gasped, another short static going through his bones. He turned without another word and began to thread through the crowd, the flashing lights and loud music disorienting him more than they ought to be. 

As he neared the private rooms in the back of the club, he became aware of many scents, too many strong perfumes and colognes along with the stench of sweat twisting together and shoving themselves into his sinuses. He held his breath, trying to ignore it, knowing this _had_ to be all just a part of the dug Phil had given him. 

He smelled something else, too, that was more welcome than the rest of the scents. Something that was familiar and enticing, sending a spike of adrenaline through him as he identified it immediately. 

_Phil_. 

He paused and gritted his teeth as another crash of gratification engulfed him, and he nearly fell to the floor. When it ebbed, he scrambled forward, pushing people out of the way in his haste to follow the scent trail, at the end of which he knew must be the man he was looking for. Some part of him wanted the feeling to come back, to drown him until he couldn't bear it any longer, and it was the fear that it would indeed overtake him that spurred him forward.

Room seven was the last door, marked with the number but otherwise unassuming and plain, with no window to provide a glimpse of what he might be about to face. A lock on the doorknob meant he had to knock if he wanted to get inside. 

Dan raised his fist, hesitating. Should he really get himself deeper into this? He supposed if he turned away now, as would have probably been the smart thing to do, there was a possibility that he might no recover from whatever Phil had put in that pill. He’d told Dan to come find him for a reason; Dan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was entering some kind of deadly game, where he was just an expendable pawn, and Phil had lead him to fulfill his duty.

“ _Come in_ ,” a low voice drawled out from inside, impossibly close considering that Dan was on the other side of the door, and the latch clicked open of its own accord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan's in some serious trouble, and he certainly isn't getting out of it easily. Is Phil actually going to help, or drag him deeper? I think you already know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will seeking out Phil help Dan in any way, or cause him more trouble? It doesn't seem that Dan has a choice.

Dan swallowed, letting his hand hover over the door. Phil knew he was here. It was _creepy_.

He pushed the door open with the pads of his fingers, fighting the tightening coils in his stomach that were threatening to hit him with another wave of uninvited pleasure.

Phil had chosen the couch shoved against the back wall, and was sprawled out on its cushions leisurely, his eyes trained on Dan’s form. The room was furnished in dark wood and deep blue light that would have made everything very dim, had this been a normal day. But with his unexplainable heightened senses, Dan could see the room perfectly. A queen sized bed rested in one corner, for people who wanted to rent the room for a night or for a few hours; there was, too, a table and chairs, and a bathroom off to one side, even. This was a nice club, and Phil would have had to pay quite a sum to keep this room to himself every weekend.

Phil stared at him for what seemed like ages, electric blue eyes shining from under his black fringe, and Dan stood paralyzed in the doorframe, waiting for who knew what. 

A tide spread from his stomach again, but this time, pain intermingled with the good feeling, zapping through his nerves without warning. Dan cried out and dropped to a knee, trying not to let himself fall down all the way. 

In a haze, Dan felt two arms underneath his shoulders, prying him upward and dragging him to somewhere soft. Phil’s scent, so much more welcome than the stink out on the dance floor, seemed to float around him, enveloping him in a numbing comfort. When he became fully aware again, he was on the couch. 

Phil sat lightly down next to him, and Dan knew from the sudden swimming in his head that he wouldn’t be able to get up now if he wanted to.

“Hello, Dan,” Phil greeted him. He smiled, a genuine, innocent smile, and Dan couldn’t help but think Julia was right about him; Phil was a ray of sunshine. 

But he wasn’t here for that. 

“What did you give me?” Dan mumbled, not wanting to move his lips too much in case it set off another wave. He felt his heartbeat pounding frantically, too loud in his body, but he couldn't hear Phil's heart thumping like he could still distantly hear everyone else's. In fact, it was oddly quiet in this room, sounds muffled from outside. “What’s happening to me?”

Phil grimaced, almost apologetically, and swept a hand through his hair. “Your body’s going through a bit of a change. It’s necessary if you’re going to be accommodating the arrangements I’ve set up.”

“Arrangements?” Was this supposed to mean something? Was Dan supposed to know what he was talking about? “Look, mate. I don’t have any arrangements. You just gave me some shit for free and I want to know how to get rid of the-- _argh...”_ He gasped, trying to breathe, his skin and his insides and all his bones uncomfortably sensitive as his body quaked though another tremor. 

“Sorry,” Phil apologized as it subsided, leaving Dan out of breath. “It’s only going to get more painful. I can’t do much about that.”

“What do you mean?” Dan gritted his teeth, feeling his stomach tightening in preparation for another. _Already? “_ Tell me what’s going on--”

“What’s happening to your body is a temporary concern. I may have lied to you about the pill I gave you... you’ll have to take them regularly now. I’ve heard the pain is excruciating if you don’t.”

_Fuck_. He was addicted to some drug with one hit and it was all his fault for trusting a stranger. What a night to have a weak moment. Dan tried to keep the pain at bay, collected all in his stomach, as he forced words out. “Am I going through withdrawals already or-- or something?”

Phil blinked. “It’s not a drug, Dan. And no. It’s changing your body chemistry, and that can be a bit painful and confusing for humans. But it will get more bearable with each dose. Having to change over all at once... now _that's_ pain.”

“I don’t-- have any idea-- what you’re talking about,” Dan muttered, clenching his hands into fists. Phil had most definitely said “humans” like he was distinguishing himself as something other than such. What did it all mean? And what changes were going through his body? Dan definitely was feeling nothing good now, just fire that was boiling in the center of his being. It could roll through him at any moment, and he didn’t feel prepared. 

“I won’t change you into anything _completely_ inhuman! That would take far too long. And I only need you until I can get myself sorted out of this mess... unless you end up making it for a while! Then I could keep you! ...Though none of the other ones did...” Phil rubbed his chin thoughtfully, contemplating something Dan couldn’t possibly imagine. Fear spiked through him at the words “making it”. “They were all just humans, though. You should be a bit stronger. And easier to feed.” 

Phil’s nose scrunched up, presumably at some disgusting memory; Dan imagined a woman, emaciated and stuffed inside a tight wire cage, with a child-like Phil poking a stick through the bars at her. He shuddered. He didn’t know what Phil had done in his past, but no matter which angle you looked at it, this guy was fucked up.

Dan tried to get up, to stand and beeline for the door so as to vacate the area as quickly as possible, but his limbs wouldn’t comply, and he soon found himself inching as fast as he could along the floor. 

Without Phil having to touch it, the door swung shut and latched itself. “Naughty human,” Phil scolded. “I’m just trying to help. You’ll have a good life with me. I promise.”

Dan tried to find something to say, but the cotton in his head, along with all the amplified noise and the shatteringly loud drum of his own heartbeat in his chest, stopped the words before they could fully form. “F-fuck you,” he finally stuttered.

“Belonging to me is going to be much better than being a lawyer, Dan. I thought you wanted to find a different job, anyway?”

Dan stopped wiggling on the ground. “How did you--”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Dan! Ever since you were in university. You had such long hair back then.”

Phil smiled fondly at the memory. Dan’s mind got stuck on one word and repeated it until it was all he could think. _Psycho, psycho, psycho psycho psychopsychopsycho--_

“I never planned on intervening, I promise. But sometimes... when you’re in a bind...”

Phil leaned down into Dan’s face, and he squirmed away, trying to get out of reach, to stand up, anything. But his strength was dwindling, and he finally consigned himself with a defeated moan to look into Phil’s face. 

“You’ll so, _definitely_ do.” Dan didn’t know what Phil was confirming to himself, but it obviously gave him some kind of assurance, his tongue poking out of his mouth happily. If this had been a normal encounter, Dan might have thought it was cute. 

Under the circumstances, it was more than creepy. It was the look of a child that had just been given his favorite toy, only, it was a grown man looking at another man that he’d just drugged and was about to drag off against his will to who knew where.

Without warning, Phil reached down and grabbed Dan under the armpits again, placing the taller man’s arm around his shoulders, propping him up. Dan could barely use his feet to help Phil walk to the door and carefully open it.

“Come on, Dan! Let’s go tell Julia you’ve gotten a ride home.”

And they made their way around the dance floor, Dan completely aware that he was about to be kidnapped, and able to do absolutely nothing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think is going to happen to Dan? Phil has a reason for all this, but it can't be anything good...


	4. Chapter 4

Dan couldn’t do much except hold on; his functions seemed to be deteriorating rapidly, though his other senses remained too high to comprehend as the noise and smells of the dance floor hit him again. He clutched at the place where Phil’s neck met his shoulder, trying desperately to steady himself and block out the extra sensations and Phil's heady scent so he could get _away_ from this lunatic, but he needn’t have bothered. Phil was holding him upright with an impossible sort of strength Dan didn’t want to contemplate, and the two glided around the crowd with ease.

As they neared the exit, Phil shifted Dan’s weight on him and started to move more slowly; Dan realized he was trying to seem as though he were struggling with Dan’s weight, as any normal person would have. He had barely time to register this detail before they were standing at the bar, just next to the entrance hallway. “Julia!” Phil waved at the blonde behind the counter. No more flashes of torment had hit him, though now, it started instead to leak into his appendages from his insides, trickling out in a tiny agonizing stream. His knuckles were white on Phil’s neck as it fanned out from his stomach, spreading. 

Julia caught sight of them and, beaming, made her way around the counter to meet them. _Julia!_ It was his only chance of being saved.

Dan tried to catch her eye as she stopped in front of them, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head up, and he felt his neck sink downward in spite of his attempts. He stared at the floor, watching the conversation helplessly from the sides of his eyes. His lips wouldn’t move; his vocal chords didn’t respond when he tried to make a sound. 

Only pain. 

“I don’t think Dan’s going to be safe walking home tonight,” Phil informed her dutifully. “Do you have his home address? Somewhere I could take him?”

“Oh...” Dan could hear the falter in her voice. “Well, I’d say his girlfriend’s house, but he’s only just broken up with her today... I don’t know where he lives...”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Phil offered. 

 _Liar_ , Dan fumed inside his head. The nice guy facade had completely pulled the wool over Julia’s eyes. 

“Do you think...” Julia leaned in closer to Phil. “Do you think you could take him home and let him sleep on your couch or something, Phil? I mean... I trust you. And he looks awful.”

Phil paused, probably appearing to be thinking. “Well I don’t have work in the morning, and I’m sure it’d be better than letting him loose on the street,” Phil observed. “Sure, Julia.”

“Oh, thanks, Phil!” Julia leaned in uncomfortably close, and there was a smacking sound next to Dan’s ear as she kissed Phil’s cheek. “You’re an angel, really. I can give you some free drinks next weekend to make up for it.”

“Oh, ՚s no trouble.” Phil adjusted Dan with what would seem like a bit of effort, cheerily said, “Come along, Dan!” and turned them toward the hall.

Once through the hall and out the door, the mask dropped. Phil hoisted Dan up into the air and over his shoulders effortlessly, letting Dan droop over Phil’s back. The night air didn’t feel cold, as Dan had expected, but instead, glorious against his prickling skin. Dan could see more clearly in the night than he should have, considering that it was somewhere around three o'clock in the morning and blacker than tar outside, but he couldn’t see every crevice and crack in the road like he had expected to be able to. 

“Come on, Dan! Don’t worry, you’ll be happy in your new home.” Dan was unable to say anything to this. They crunched along in the asphalt that lined the road; Dan watched it fade to dirt and gravel as they turned into an alleyway, taking a route unfamiliar to him. 

Someone _had_ to see them. They had to! A man carrying another man slung across his back was no normal sight, was it? But they didn’t encounter anyone in the alleyway, and as they twisted through the route, Dan lost all hopes of knowing where he was in case he attempted escape later. 

Dan noticed the pain ebbing first. It receded gently from his fingers and toes, leaving them tingling, and continued up his arms and legs, gathering back in his stomach again. It left him aware of the cold night air, which seeped into his bones to replace the fire. He fought a shiver.

As they trudged along in silence, Dan wiggled his fingers, almost surprised when they responded to his direction; then he moved one arm, just a little, hoping Phil wouldn’t notice. His arm worked, too. 

Dan didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but wherever they were, they had to come out onto a street sometime, right? His brain began to work on overdrive as his vision lost definition, and the night grew darker. He paid it no attention. He needed a plan of action; this was quite possibly his last chance to get away. 

But he had no time. It only a good few seconds before Phil rounded another corner and they were on a street again, surrounded by tall apartment buildings and windows everywhere. What could he do? He shifted his head up a little to look, and saw a light on in one of the flats. 

Dan took a deep breath.

And screamed for all he was worth. 

Phil obviously hadn’t anticipated the noise, and his grip loosened in complete surprise; Dan could do nothing to prepare himself as he slipped, falling sideways off Phil and onto his back. Despite the pain, he scrambled away from Phil, continuing to scream. He could still see that window a little ways down, and by God if he wasn’t going to get that person’s attention. 

Phil, meanwhile, had clapped his hands over his hears, screwing his face up in anguish. “Stop! _Stop!_ ” He whimpered, shaking his head. Dan continued anyway, his mouth open as far as it could go while he struggled to make his still-wobbly legs bring him to his feet.

He hadn’t gotten more than two steps when he felt Phil’s hands around his shoulders-- _no-_ \- reaching to whirl him around and push him backward. The back of Dan’s head made striking contact with the wall of the nearest apartment building, making Dan’s eyes water, and a hand snaked up to clasp over his mouth, pressing it closed. Dan pulled at the arms holding him, but to no avail; it was like trying to move a boulder. 

“Don’t-- stop-- be _quiet_ \--” Phil hissed. When Dan didn’t acquiesce, still making muffled noises, something in Phil’s face changed; it became harder, darker, more determined. More crazed, Dan thought. And Phil leaned over so he was nuzzling Dan’s neck where it met his shoulder. 

Phil bit down. 

Dan’s screaming began anew, dulled by Phil's hand. 

The feeling could only be likened to biting one’s tongue during a meal; agony, and the horrible suspicion that you're about to lose a chunk of flesh. Phil’s canines were blunt, and he was biting down so hard that Dan could feel all of the tendon and sinew shrieking their complaint, threatening to tear. He felt exactly when Phil broke skin, could feel it when he went deep enough to find a vein. He felt his remaining heat slip from his body and out of the wound to Phil’s mouth, which was creating an almost curious sucking sensation against the flow, making sure hardly a drop spilled. 

In just a few long seconds, the alleyway behind Phil began to spin as Dan’s fingers scrabbled on Phil’s back powerlessly; a few more seconds and the sound in Dan's windpipe died; and finally, his arms drooped, coming to rest uselessly on either side of him. 

Phil surfaced, heaving, and though his dimming vision, Dan could hardly make out the dark stain that grotesquely outlined Phil’s lips. 

“Don’t put up another fuss,” Phil snarled. Dan couldn’t have made a fuss if he tried. His head was swimming too much, light and airy and dark...

“Go to sleep, Dan,” Phil whispered. 

And Dan did. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dan awoke reluctantly to a fierce headache, somehow sharper than a hangover. When he opened his eyes, there wasn’t anything but darkness. 

He fumbled around with a weary arm for his bedside lamp, disoriented and shaking from weakness, until he realized that he was not, in fact, stationed in his normally rock-hard and lumpy mattress, but instead in a luxurious, much more comfortable than average bed. And there was a stiffness, a slight tingling on the side of his neck. 

_Oh._

He tried to remain calm as memories from last night flooded through him piece by piece, beginning with the attractive stranger at the club and ending with being dragged off and attacked on the street... somewhere. He reached up to feel his neck; it was swathed in bandages, not entirely painful. More just sore. 

He felt around, trying to understand where he was, but the bed seemed to be endless, much larger than his old affordable twin bed at home. He grasped at seas of fresh cotton sheets and fluffy blankets, only now noticing how his head sunk into the pillow when he plopped it down again in defeat. What was this place? Where had the psycho taken him to?

The guy had actually _bitten_ him. Jesus, of all the things to happen... Mr. Take-This-Pill had to be off his rocker. 

 _Am I in A &E?_ Dan wondered to himself, reaching up to his bandages again. He shut his eyes, opened them, shut them again; there was no change in the room’s completely lack of light, and a deep-seated fear of the dark began to crawl into his gut. He’d always, always been afraid of the dark, for as long as he could remember; his electricity bill was through the roof, considering all the lamps and other lights he kept on even while sleeping, but he would pay for it if it meant feeling safe. 

Now, that small comfort was stripped away from him, and he found himself drawing up the too-soft duvet to his chin, eyes wide for signs of movement even in the black. There could be something on the bed with him, or under it, or beside him, leaning over him, watching him, for all he knew. Different fears and speculations circled in his brain, pecking at him like seagulls, until he was paralyzed. 

What if the drug had done this to him? Made him blind? Would he recover? Would he never be able to see again, just because of some stupid mistake he made while he was drunk and reckless?

And then there was a noise. 

Dan stopped breathing and listened; that had sounded like... beeping?

There it was again, longer this time. It was a high pitched, 8-bit noise, melodic and frenzied, somewhere off to Dan’s left. And it was familiar. 

Dan frowned as the noise halted again. It sounded like the old Tamagotchi he’d lost when he was a teenager, a handheld game he’d loved for a time but quickly lost interest in. What the hell?

He didn’t get a chance to contemplate further, because just then, the metallic squeak of a doorknob filled the silence, closely followed by a dim light straight in front of him-- he could see!-- that was almost piercing after such all-consuming darkness: a doorway. Dan squinted against it and froze, watching in horror as a tall, lanky figure stepped through. 

“Dan! You’re awake,” the strong northern accent lilted, and dread settled in Dan’s core as the door thudded shut, once more extinguishing anything Dan was able to see. “It’s Phil.”

Dan wished he could run, wished he could just close his eyes and wake up far away from wherever this was, but he knew he had no hope of overpowering his captor or seeing enough to get out of here, so he stayed in place, sore muscles taught and ready as they could be.

The Tamagotchi beeped again, and Phil, somehow without light, paused in his rustling around the room. His footsteps moved toward the noise, his fingers scraping against wood as he picked up the toy. 

“Ah, that’s where that went,” he murmured to Dan, and a moment later, the door was opened, and Phil slid out. This time, before the door closed, Dan caught a glimpse of a black cabinet in the corner that the Tamagotchi must have been sitting on, as well as a desk on the other side of the room. His duvet was one he’d have picked out himself, a black and grey checkered one, not dissimilar to the cheaper version he had at home. 

 _Okay_ , Dan said to himself as Phil banged around somewhere outside the door. A psycho had him... locked up? Well, kept, anyway, in a bedroom that looked much like a normal bedroom would, and he was still fully clothed in what felt like his own garments, so that was one less worry. At least he wasn’t shackled to a metal pole, or in a cage, like he had almost expected to be. 

He could almost, _almost_ believe that Phil had taken him home last night, and the rest had been some bizarre dream brought on by too much hard liquor.

But a touch to his neck, to the bandages there, told him that just wasn’t the case. 

The nightmare was real. 

If he listened closely, Dan could hear the clinking of something that might have been dishware far beyond the door, and a voice that was either muttering or singing softly, he couldn’t tell. 

There were only a few minutes before the door opened again, and Dan cursed himself for not thinking of getting up and looking around, at the very least, in the time he was given. 

 _Now he’s going to come in and take me and do something terrible,_ Dan theorized inside his head as Phil’s silhouette entered, bearing a tray full of unidentifiable items. _He probably has all sorts of horrible things on there. Instruments. To torture me with. I’m going to die an insignificant death and no one will have even known my na-_

“Do you want some coffee, Dan?” 

Dan’s racing thoughts screeched to a halt as Phil strode in, closing the door behind him. Dan felt the bed dipping as Phil sat at the edge.

He made a move to get away, but Phil grabbed a foot in the darkness; Dan froze and whimpered in fright, closing his eyes at the undignified noise. Phil snatched his hand away quickly. 

“Sorry. I just-- It’s just coffee, I promise. For the headache.” 

There was a long pause where Phil was silent and Dan didn’t dare move. 

“Aren’t you going to drink it?”

“I... can’t see it?” Dan squeaked, confused as to what he was expected to do. He didn’t want to anger Phil; he knew what cold strength was behind that pale skin, and he didn’t want to be subject to it again.

“Oh! Right, I forget, sorry. Human thing.” The bed lifted, and the lights were on in an instant. Dan screwed his eyes shut, forcing them to open them little by little so he could see what the other boy was doing. 

Phil sat back down as things came into focus, offering the tray to Dan; on it rested a simple mug of coffee, complete with cream and a petite china bowl of sugar cubes on the side. 

“Uhm...” Dan swallowed. Dare he take the drink a stranger (a known untrustworthy stranger, at that) gave him?

As if reading his mind, Phil smiled and assured him, “There’s nothing else but coffee in there, I promise. Your pill is for tonight, silly.”

Choosing to ignore the latter part of the sentence for now, Dan reached out tentatively, his shaky hand stuttering over the sugars. 

“You must be exhausted. Let me help you with that.” Phil leaned over the tray to take two sugars out of the bowl and plop them in, along with a dash of cream. Dan didn’t ask how Phil knew how he liked his coffee. He just watched in a quiet, subdued horror. Why was Phil being nice to him all the sudden? Were crazy people nice sometimes, like they kept alternate personalities, or something?

“Here you go.” Phil held the coffee out to Dan, taking care to make sure he could hold it alright before letting go. Dan took a sip; it was nice. Not too hot, not to sweet. Just nice.“You’re probably wondering what’s going on, and if you’re going to be alright.”

Dan didn’t say anything, using another draught of coffee as his excuse not to speak. 

“We have some things to talk about. We can talk after your coffee, and you can shower, if you like, or we can just start now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me forever to update (I literally just told people that the least I'd update was once a week) but I've been incredibly busy with life. I'll try to keep on top of things better!! Thank you for the comments and the kudos, they definitely motivate me to keep going :)


	6. Chapter 6

“Um.”

Dan wanted to start by demanding that Phil let him go, or maybe asking what the _hell_ was going on before they continue... but what was he going to threaten Phil with? His weak, shaking arms? His head was pounding, too, and he knew he’d not have the energy to win in a battle of wits. Not that it would come to that; Phil had already shown his strength last night. Dan had felt it when he was pushed up against the rough brick of a London building and drained of blood. 

“Now is good, I guess,” he said after a long wait with Phil gazing expectantly.

“That might be nice then. Do you have any questions?”

Dan’s brow furrowed. “Well... yeah...” Did this guy not understand what he was doing? Was he mentally incapable of putting himself in someone else’s shoes? _He is crazy, I guess._ But... Phil was just staring at him benevolently, his expression bright and relaxed, his eyes innocent and oh-so-blue. Just like he had been back at the club. _A ray of sunshine_. Right now, he was everything Julia and whoever else saw him every week believed him to be. 

Dan realized he was getting lost in the eyes, in the scent that he hadn’t really noticed permeating his senses, in the closeness of the other man, though he couldn’t feel any body heat. He cleared his throat, dropping his eyes. 

“If you’re unsure, I can start,” Phil offered. He took a breath, sitting up a little straighter as Dan continued his study of the bedsheets that were so close to his ones at home, yet so unfamiliar. “Like I said, I’ve been watching you, Dan. Ever since Manchester, and I know lots of things about you. So it’s useless to ask me to let you leave, or to try and escape, Dan. I know how you function.”

Dan felt his stomach slowly plummeting. “How long... how long are you keeping me here?”

Phil smiled. So genuine. “I’m not quite sure, Dan. That depends on some things. Like how well you do here, for instance. Maybe if you behave, if you take your pills when you’re supposed to, if you don’t try to leave... then maybe I’ll shorten your stay. That is, unless you decide you like it here.”

Dan fought back a shiver. He didn’t think he’d want to stay with Phil if it were his last choice. 

He was almost afraid to ask. “And, if I try to leave...?”

Phil’s smile drooped, replaced by regret. “Consequences,” he whispered. He shook himself, theatrically returning to his peppy self. “But don’t worry, Dan, I’ll take good care of you here. You won’t want to leave. It’s much better than being a lawyer, I promise. I’m doing you service, really.”

Dan frowned. Phil kept saying that. _Much better than being a lawyer_. But...

“Hang on.” Dan fidgeted with the coffee mug, rubbing his thumb over the handle, nervous about confronting the man who had kidnapped him. “You... followed me since Manchester, have you?” 

Phil bobbed his head enthusiastically. “Yes. All the way through university and on to the real world.”

“And... you followed me to London, and you watch me here. At my job.”

“Yes, that’s right. I know everything about you, Dan. I said that.”

Ah, there it was. Dan finally made eye contact, his confidence rising. “Then you’ll know that I dropped out of university because I didn’t want to be a lawyer, I moved here because my girlfriend did, and now I work at a Tesco.”

To his satisfaction, Phil’s mouth popped open in surprise. He’d caught Phil out on his bluff, and now it was time for answers. 

“You’d better have a good reason for keeping me here, otherwise I’m not believing your bullshit, and I’m not taking your stupid, _fucking_ pill,” Dan spat. 

Phil’s mouth closed and his eyes flashed fire for an instant before his face softened again. “...Alright,” he said slowly, and Dan sat back, knowing he’d actually won out on this one. “You’ve got to take your pill, Dan. You won’t survive.”

 _Stop saying my name_. Dan crossed his arms. “Not until you tell me the truth. _All_ of it.”

Phil ran a hand through his own black hair, and Dan was pleased to see the lying bastard in distress. “Okay... well, I really did watch you in Manchester for a... a while,” Phil admitted. His voice had dropped a little, along with the two faces of intimidation and innocence he’d put on for Dan since last night; it was a little more like talking with a normal person now. Dan sucked in a breath, imagining the black haired man standing outside his dorm room, sitting in the back of his classroom, watching him walk to lessons. “It’s a bit hard to explain why. You and I... we were meant to be friends. Before I took a different path in life.”

“...What?” 

Phil scratched his head, concentrating. “Its... Sometimes I can see things that are meant to be, or were meant to be. It’s not very often. It’s more like... I can see potential in certain...” Dan watched, wide eyed, as he struggled, torn between wondering what Phil had seen and knowing that this was all ridiculous. “...My grandma was one of those people who said she could see the future, and things like that, and she always said the “gift” ran in me too? I never really believed her until...” Phil trailed off. Dan couldn’t help but notice Phil had an affinity for drama. But for all the pausing for effect, and withholding of information, the hushed voice... this didn’t _sound_ like a lie. 

“I saw you, one night, out with your friends. I’ve always lived in Manchester, even after... um.” Phil shifted, looking away, and it almost looked like he was trying to suppress a shudder. “I’ll talk about that later. But I saw you, and I just _knew_. If nothing had happened to me, if I had stayed on my own path in life, you and I were going to become friends. Best friends. Inseparable. We were going to be famous.”

Dan let his mind roam, trying to imagine what Phil was saying. Them, friends. Dan, himself, famous. For what? Dan didn’t really think he could do anything well enough to be famous. He’d considered trying out for plays, studying acting in university... but the closest he’d ever gotten to putting himself out there was watching a couple of YouTube videos and wondering if he could do it, too, but never pursuing it. There was a little tickle in the back of his mind at this thought, like Phil was right, but he didn’t understand fully why. 

“I followed you, and you were... interesting. But I figured that the opportunity was over, and that I shouldn't... dwell on it. I was... I was in a bad place back then.” Phil looked uncomfortable. “So I moved to London, and you moved with me. I never knew you were here until I saw you at the club, and I needed a human, and I figured it must be destiny.”

Phil leaned in closer, his tone lowering. 

“The universe has a way of righting itself and making sure things happen, even if they’re not in the way that they’re supposed to. My grandma always said that.” His eyes lightened, and Dan swallowed, trying to shake himself. He’d been entranced by the story. For an instant, he had to remind himself that he was in a stranger’s house, that he was a hostage, that he was being drugged. That he could die. 

“Okay. So...” Dan could only hope that the intimidating, angry Phil would stay hidden as he continued to probe for more information, possibly a way to get himself out of this mess. If he could convince Phil to let him go somehow...? “But how does this relate to me taking this pill-thingy? Whatever it is. And why do you need a... person?” Dan refrained from saying the word “human”. If this guy thought he was anything besides human, he was a nutcase. And... well, now that he thought of it... 

There was the whole “gift” thing. There was the going to the club and staying all night. There was the weird strength and the coldness to his skin when Dan had touched him. It could all be a facade to scare Dan, for some strange reason. Maybe Phil was a serial killer, a sick man who picked victims and convinced them he was supernatural as a way to play with them before they died.

Dan remembered Phil biting into his neck in the early morning London street, and marveled at how he didn’t see it sooner. 

Maybe Phil really believed himself to be a vampire. 

Something burned at the back of Dan’s mind, reminding him that it was very hard to display the weird power that Phil obviously held, that is was difficult indeed to open and close a club door from across the room without so much as a touch. And that he’d seen some really _weird_ shit when he’d taken that pill, and it didn’t really seem like much of a high or a trip, to be honest. It certainly hadn’t been what Phil had sold it out to be.

He brushed all this aside. He’d been tripping out. That was all. There was no way in hell that Dan was going to believe Phil could _possibly_ be--

“I need a human because I’m going to be on the run soon,” Phil said flatly, frowning. “I... did something I wasn’t supposed to. I’ve tried to keep humans before, to keep me company. But I never tried to change any.” Phil eyed him. “But I have a good feeling about you. And I’m going to change you slowly. With the pill.”

Dan blinked a few times, sorting out what to say to get Phil to talk more plainly. “Change me?”

“Yes.”

“Into...?” Dan prompted. 

Phil rolled his eyes. “What I am. It’s not important right now, and I’ll tell you about it as you need.”

Dan pursed his lips. “I _need_ now. I need to know what’s going on. What happened to me last night? What’s in those pills?”

A flash of a grin played about Phil’s lips. “My blood.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I haven't updated in forever but maybe you can expect sommore updates now that I'm back on track as far as writing goes. It's sort of late and there are probably some spelling mistakes but I'm having a lot of fun with this fic actually, thanks for reading!

Dan’s mouth fell open in disbelief. Phil couldn’t have just put his _blood_ in some pills, there was no way. Phil was insane, Dan reminded himself. Besides, how was he supposed to believe that, when the pills didn’t even look like a liquid? His stomach roiled at the thought anyway, the idea that someone else’s blood could be in his stomach at this very moment. “How--”

“I’ve been developing it for a while... perhaps it would be easier to show you?” Phil couldn’t keep his grin to himself, his teeth disappearing and reappearing as he took the tray from Dan’s lap and set it on the nightstand (Dan kept expecting them to be pointed, for some reason, but they weren’t). Suddenly Dan didn’t want to leave the safety of this room; he didn’t know what could be out there. It could be anything, and none of what came to mind was something Dan wanted to see. 

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to--”

Phil grabbed his hand, smoothly lifting him from the bed with little effort. Dan gasped as he tumbled into Phil’s arms with the momentum, the black haired man chuckling as Dan recoiled and righted himself. “Come along, Dan.”

Though fear was crumbling his stomach to pieces, Dan couldn’t help but be dragged along by the hand, powerless, because he had no idea what his captor would do if he refused. There was something calming about Phil, too, something Dan felt when he breathed in his scent, something he was feeling now from the sensation of Phil’s fingers, too. Something he didn’t want to feel, because this was very, very not okay, and it didn’t make any sense. 

Phil pulled him gently into the hallway, as though coaxing him out of hiding, though keeping a firm grip on Dan’s hand. It was surprisingly bright in the hallway, well lit and warm like he would expect a... a regular flat to be. They passed a door across the hall, closed, most likely Phil’s room, and a bathroom door, open. A few more steps, and they were in the lounge.

Blackout curtains on either window prevented Dan from finding what time of day it was and where they were, but the rest of the flat seemed... fairly normal, really. Nice, for a London flat, and a lot nicer than his, for sure. There was a dining table toward one wall, a television in the corner with a few different gaming consoles (a psycho who was a gamer? Who knew), lots of DVD’s on a shelf close by, and an entrance to a lovely looking, well-sized kitchen. The scene was something that made the tickle at the back of Dan’s mind grow stronger, like he _knew_ this was all right, all correct, all exactly how it was supposed to be. A strong feeling of deja vu overwhelmed him, and Phil stopped to let Dan’s eyes wander over the items in the lounge. 

The only thing out of place, something Dan didn’t expect, was the shelf in the other corner by the door, housing a glass tank full of sand and branches. A massive, brownish snake was perched upon one of the branches in the tank, wound around it, its head out of sight. It was this that Phil drew him toward. 

The pair stopped in front of the tank, and Phil used one hand to point toward the reptile while the other hand kept a tight hold of Dan’s. “This is Susan! She’s a lancehead viper. Say hello,” he said cheerfully, tapping the glass lightly with his finger. The snake didn’t seem to hear, or else it was ignoring them, for it didn’t move. Phil frowned a little, but his eyes were still alight with a childlike fascination. “She must be sleeping. She’s a sweetie, though-- she helps me with my work.”

Dan glanced around the flat again, trying to find what “work” his captor might be using a snake for. He couldn’t find anything, and it occurred to him that whatever was Phil’s project could be kept in his room; that would explain the door being closed. Phil stared at Dan expectantly again, waiting for him to ask questions. 

“I’m sorry, but... What?” Dan asked, trying to figure what a thick snake in Phil’s front room had to do with anything. 

“What are snakes used for, Dan?”

Dan frowned. “Erm...” For cool pets? For freaking people out? Somehow Dan thought neither really applied to Phil. His palm burned in Phil’s hand, which was colder than it should have been. _Typical_. 

Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. “For their _venom_ , of course. They’re used in a lot of medicines, did you know? Some snakes have venom with enzymes that make blood runny and unable to clot-- that’s an _anticoagulant--_ and some make blood into a solid, that’s a _coagulant_.” Dan couldn’t help but feel he was either thrust back into a class in uni or into an informational video. “Most people extract those bits to help people with clotting issues, but I figured I could use it to my own purposes.” He squeezed Dan’s hand. “I can use a coagulant to harden my own blood and shape it, and I use the other parts for testing. I’ve left a bit of the toxin in... mostly I’m hoping it helps with the pain. Even in a small dose, the pain is fairly intense... How was that, by the way?”

“Uh...” Dan’s brain was still throbbing as it attempted to process all this information at once. Okay so he... separated snake venom components... how, exactly? “It was... um... painful?” he tried, still sifting through Phil’s words. And he had left some toxin in? “Hang on, what’s that about toxins?”

“How painful, though?” Phil probed, his shockingly blue eyes searching through Dan’s. “Was it a burn, all at once, do you still feel anything? Was it not all at once? Did you have any moments of clarity, time slowing down or speeding up? Anything pleasurable? Anything numb?”

Okay, now it sounded like he was in the doctor’s office, or the therapist’s chair. He squirmed uncomfortably under Phil’s gaze. He didn’t know this guy. But he felt pressured to answer again, lest Phil should turn on him and re-sink his blunt teeth into his flesh... “Oh... well... um...” Dan tried to recall last night in better detail, the memory a bit fuzzy from the booze. “Well, there was the clarity first, I guess. Everything in sharp detail, and everything seemed really loud, and then the room froze.” 

Phil was nodding along, paying careful attention. “That sounds normal.”

Dan gave him a side glance before continuing, staring at the statuesque snake. She wasn’t just brown; she was sandy colored, with a lighter stripes and large dark patches traveling up her body. Toward the bottom of the tank, her body thinned out and ended in a rattle the size of his finger. Her underbelly was yellowish, her head buried somewhere in her coils that looped around the tank. “Then it was like a wave, and it felt really good... and then it kept getting worse. Painful, yeah. And then I couldn’t move, I guess I wasn’t really numb, though.” 

He remembered the feeling just before the waves, when he was still sitting at the bar, when everything just seemed _right_ and life was beautiful. It sent a pang through him as he realized how fake that feeling was now. 

“Right after I took it, there was a really good feeling in my head, too, like everything was going to be okay.” He looked back up to find Phil not nodding along anymore, but biting his lip instead, an edge of worry to his features. 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, that happens, too, sometimes.” For a second Dan thought Phil’s eyes might be glistening-- but he didn’t get a chance to get a better look, because Phil gave his hand another squeeze before his expression hardened over and he turned back toward the hallway. “You probably need some food, right, Dan?”

“Er... yeah, that would be nice... thanks.” Dan figured he’d better tack something polite on the end, just in case. This guy had a lot of snake venom to use in the event that Dan was to be tortured or punished, and he didn’t want to know what set Phil off. 

Phil led them into the kitchen, and Dan was hit with more of the same feeling that he’d been there before, or that he was supposed to be there. “How long have you lived here?” Dan felt the question slip out before he had time to filter it. 

“Since I found you in London.” Phil opened one of the cupboards, keeping their hands linked as though he thought Dan would go running at any second. _Like a dog on a leash_ , Dan thought bitterly. The cupboard was not near-bare, as Dan expected, but full of things-- full of things Dan liked. Squares, Wheaties, and what was that red bag in the front--?

“Ever tried Malteasers?” Phil asked, smirking at the besmitten look on Dan’s face. Phil grabbed the red bag Dan was staring at. It depicted some sort of spherical candy covered in chocolate. It also looked like a shit candy, if Dan was going to be honest. 

“Uh... no,” Dan muttered. He reached up toward the multiple cereal boxes at the top of the cupboard, only to be met with the red bag as Phil pushed it into his hand. 

“They’re your favorite. I promise,” Phil said forcibly. Dan bit back an annoyed comment about this being ridiculous, in case he got in trouble for it. Phil didn’t seem like he was willing to bend on this one. 

“...Okay.” Dan pointed with his free pinky. “Can I also at least have some cereal or something?”

“I’ll bring some into your room in a bit.” A friendly sounding 8-bit beep chirped again, just like the noise in his bedroom, and Phil used the hand not holding onto Dan’s to reach into his pocket and pull out the Tomagotchi from earlier. “Remember this old thing?” he asked Dan, smiling fondly. 

Dan gaped. “Is that...” Dan had thought it sounded like his old lost one, earlier, but certainly it wasn't... “Mine?”

“Yep!” Phil confirmed pleasantly. “God, they’re fun to play with. Sorry, but I used to be so jealous when you had one in uni that I sort of... thought you wouldn’t mind if I took it. You hadn’t been using it for a while.”

Goosebumps broke out of Dan’s skin. Okay, right, Phil said he’d followed him in uni. But it wasn’t until this moment that Dan had really, actually believed him. There really had been a presence with him for a few years that he hadn’t been aware of, and it was... really scary, honestly. 

“R-Right,” Dan sputtered, unable to really come up with anything else. Phil gave him a pitying look when he took in Dan’s expression. 

“Sorry if that freaks you out,” Phil said kindly. His thumb rubbed up and down on Dan’s palm, and the brown-haired boy instantly felt a calm set about him again. “You can use it while you’re here, if you want. It’s yours, after all.”

 _While you’re here_. Did that mean there was a chance he would be let go someday? “Sure, thanks,” Dan said automatically, not entirely positive that he’d have any use for it. Maybe for some comfort. 

Phil turned them, heading back into the hall where Dan’s room was, Dan trailing behind but still attached to Phil’s arm. Phil deposited his captive on the bed again with his Malteasers, and handed him the Tamagotchi. “Alright, I have to do some things so just... you rest here,” Phil instructed, a little uncertainly. He gave Dan’s hand one more pat before leaving. Dan heard an extra little _click_ when Phil was out that meant he had locked the door, and then there was no more noise. 

Dan took this time to examine his surroundings, as he should have done when he was in here earlier. There was the desk, as he had seen, though it seemed to be missing lots of things; Dan could picture a nice new computer on it, though he wasn’t sure why that was the first image in his head. There was, also, a chair beside it that made him giggle a little into his hand: it was white plastic, with the impression of someone’s bare arse imprinted into the bottom, and he had no idea why Phil would have it in this room. It had the _right_ feeling, too, curiously. The window just above the desk had been painted black and nailed shut, meaning Dan still couldn’t tell the time of day, nor where he was, nor how far up or down. 

After he had poked around a little more and found some bland black shirts and pants in his size in the wardrobe (was he really that surprised that Phil knew his size and style?), he flopped down on the bed again and ripped open the bag of Malteasers. Why the hell not?

And Phil was right-- they were _delicious_. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t ever picked them up at the store before; maybe it was the obnoxious red bag, but they were probably the best candy he’d ever tasted. In less than half an hour, he had eaten half the bag and was silently suffering from a sugar overload, but it was the best he’d felt yet that day. 

Quickly after he closed the bag, though, he began to wonder when he would get out of here, and what he should be doing right now to plot his escape... and when he got out, what he would do with his life? If he was being truthful, there wasn’t much to go back to when he escaped. He’d go on living as a nobody in a nothing life. Just the same as in here. 

So, instead, Dan sat down on the bed and earnestly began to cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect some more vampirey stuff to start happening, esp when Dan has to take his pill again soon!!


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t hardly an hour before fatigue and soreness from the night before (or at least, he _hoped_ the night before, since he couldn’t tell what time of day it was in this hell hole) prompted Dan to wriggle under the grey and black duvet and settle, still fully clothed. He didn’t trust Phil not to walk in unannounced, so he didn’t take the liberty of removing his shirt like he normally would at home, and he left the light on. 

He leaked tears until sleep took him, unable to stop asking himself if his life would be chained to these confines forever, if he never got to see to his parents and family again, if his friends would worry about him after a couple of days. 

 _What friends_? His own voice whispered, prodding him under the sheets that he’d pulled over his head to shield him from light. _You don’t even talk to anyone at work. They have plenty of other people, they won’t miss you. They’ll just assume you quit without telling them._ Which was something Dan had thought about doing before, honestly. He was always late for work or calling in sick, spending his free hours with his latest ex-girlfriend or holing up alone in his apartment, staring at the dirty white walls for hours. Honestly, he was more than surprised that he hadn't been fired yet.

He hadn’t ever done anything with his life. Of course no one would miss him. 

He dreamed, surprisingly, not of his apartment back home, but of Phil’s flat. A stuffed lion, a weird fuzzy hat shaped like a llama. Playing Mario Kart and glancing over not to see his ex, but Phil sitting next to him. Phil was grinning no matter where Dan looked, in every room of the flat, his eyes blue and bright. And every window in the place was open to let in the grey London sunshine. 

He dreamed of the club again, too, and this time, he brought Phil as his partner. They bypassed Julia at the bar, her heels clacking as she turned to face them, Dan hanging on Phil's arm as Phil opened his mouth to order something and-- _Julia!_

The thought of the blond bartender roused Dan to abrupt wakefulness, his head pounding worse than it had the last time he woke up here. But he took no notice; he’d just stumbled onto something crucial. Julia... surely, _she_ was a friend! Or the closest thing Dan had. She’d care if he was in danger, in any case. And, if he remembered correctly, Phil showed up to room seven in her club _every_ weekend without fail, which pulled up a new set of possibilities. 

Phil had been stalking Dan at that club, that much Dan was sure. But Dan didn’t frequent the club as often as Phil, which meant that his blue-eyed kidnapper had other business to attend to on the weekends. It was a perfect place for undercover action. So what if Phil was doing something illegal? He was a paying customer-- all he had to do was show the owners of the club his pretty pennies, and they gave him the room without asking too many questions. It was ideal for-- for... Well, Dan didn’t know what for. Something sinister, probably more sinister than anyone at the club believed Phil was capable of. 

And, if Phil _needed_ that room every weekend, and didn’t just pay a lot of unnecessary money to rent it for fun, then that meant that he’d be back. And that meant two things. One, that he might leave Dan here, where Dan could explore and plan ways of getting out, or perhaps investigate Phil’s experiments before turning him into the police. Or, two, that Phil would see it as too much of a risk, and he would take Dan with him to room seven. Which, in turn, meant that Dan would be seen by other people, especially Julia. He’d have a chance to communicate that something was wrong, and even if Phil threatened him, speaking out was likely to get the situation investigated, surely? Phil couldn’t say no to that, not publicly. Not if he didn’t want to cause a scene. 

And _that_ meant-- that meant Dan had a chance. 

Dan bolted upright with this revelation, momentarily forgetting that this room was not, in fact, as familiar as it felt to him (the deja vu was really starting to fuck him up) and shrieked when he realized a figure was sat in the white butt-chair next to his bed. 

Phil blinked, affronted. “Sorry...” he said awkwardly as Dan grabbed the covers in his haste to shield himself. 

Dan panted and took in his kidnapper’s form, letting the fact that Phil had been sitting at his bed watching him-- for who knew what amount of time-- sink in. His temples throbbed insistently, harder to ignore now that he was fully awake. The window was still blacked out, which meant Dan was no more aware of the time of day than he had been previously, nor of how long he’d been sleeping. “...It’s okay,” he breathed after a time. 

Phil nodded once, concerned. “Were you crying?”

“Uh...” Dan drew more of the duvet up to his chest, presently unwilling to answer such a pointed question. He knew his eyes were probably puffy-- they felt like it-- and his blotchy from before he fell asleep, and the answer was obvious. So, he ignored it, deciding to go for gold and ask some questions himself since he hadn’t been threatened lately. “What time is it?”

Phil sighed. “Well, you might notice that you’re not feeling as well as you should, Dan. Probably worse than yesterday.”

Dan had no frame of reference for what “yesterday” was, seeming as how Phil could have been talking about either when they met at the club or when Dan had first woken up here sometime after. He reached up to his neck absently-- still bandaged-- and rephrased his question. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A long time. It’s time to take your pill again, Dan.”

A cold tendril of dread tightened around Dan’s heart, turning his skin to ice. He shivered thinking about what it was-- Phil’s blood, possibly something to do with snake venom, and goodness knew what else. He was Phil’s experiment. 

“W-What if I refuse?” Dan cursed his mouth for stumbling over the words when he was trying to appear at his most confrontational, instead feeling himself shake beneath the bedsheets. To his horror, Phil produced the same baggy as before from his trouser pocket, snagging one small pill between his fingers and holding it out. 

“You can dry swallow, can’t you?”

Dan gathered his courage. “I _said_ , what if I refuse?”

He glared Phil in the eye, and to his surprise, the dark haired man didn’t seem bothered. No flash of fire filled his eyes, he didn’t rear up to bite, as Dan feared he would. He didn’t even frown. 

Instead, he held Dan’s gaze and murmured quietly, “Consequences.”

Dan wracked his brains, trying to remember every little thing he’d been taught about drugs in school to come up with the best solution to this. There had to be some other concoction of drugs in there to create the addictive feature, and if he kept taking them, Phil would have control over him for sure. But, if they were fully addictive in just one hit, as Dan suspected they were, then he’d just have to get this part of the day over with until he plotted his escape. 

He could always pretend to take the pill and hide it under his tongue, permitting that Phil wouldn’t stay long enough for it to dissolve. But, if Dan’s reaction last time was anything to go by, he’d have to put up quite the act to get Phil to think he’d taken it. Plus, his head felt like it was going to shatter into a million pieces with each heartbeat, and it was only getting more painful by the moment. Phil’s words from before came back to him, reminding him that he’d probably have some sort of withdrawal symptoms now: _You’ll have to take them regularly now. I’ve heard the pain is excruciating if you don’t_. 

There was only one option left: until he could figure out some other plan, he had to take it.

Hesitantly, loathing himself for what he was doing, Dan reached out to hold his palm under Phil’s hand, wincing as Phil dropped it there. 

“Take it. Please,” Phil urged, reminding him. 

For the second time in his life, Dan opened his mouth, dropped the pill inside, and swallowed before he could think twice. 

Phil smiled. “Excellent. We’ll have to wait a few minutes, and then I’ll be able to coach you through your next set of changes. It would have been easier last time, had you been under my direction.”

Dan was light headed with fear; he didn’t want to have to feel that same pain again, the fire and electricity boiling him from the inside. He knew it was coming. There was no stopping it. The pill was inside him now, and he couldn't go back. “Changes?”

“Yes. I’ll give you instructions when it starts.”

Dan didn’t know what kind of instructions these would be, but he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. He disregarded the idea of his body changing at all, his mind unable to wrap around it without threat of a breakdown. “What if I don’t do what you say?”

Phil looked at him sadly this time, a pitying expression. “More pain than necessary.”

He stood fluidly, moving to the door in a quick two strides and speaking over his shoulder at Dan. "I'll be back in a moment. Try to relax as much as you can." And he left Dan in the room alone. 

Quaking in fright of what was to come, Dan didn't think he could relax if he tried-- and if all Phil's instructions were like this, he was going to experience all the pain in the world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever since an update and I'm really sorry about that!! As I explained in my other ongoing fic, I've been really stressed and busy trying to move to another town and get a job, etc. Now I have a bit of free time for the next couple weeks so maybe I'll be updating a couple more times!! This was sort of a short update which I feel is unfair, so I'll update again soon. Thanks for waiting!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been literally forever since an update (as usual) but I hope you enjoy this one! This is where is starts to get a little 'out there', sorry in advance. Thank you for reading, all those who are keeping up with this!

 

When Phil entered again some ten or fifteen minutes later, Dan was crouched into a ball on his bed, the duvet wrapped around him protectively. He had been like this the entire time, painfully unable to do anything but wait until the pill would kick in, minutes ticking away like treacle. He glanced up at his captor, who had something clutched in one fist, something that glinted in the light, and Phil hid it in his hand as he drew nearer--

Dan flinched away as Phil stepped closer, knowing that he was going to be forced to do something, his fight or flight response rearing up as he realized he might be threatened again.

Regret shined in Phil’s eyes as he watched Dan fold in on himself in fear. “I’m sorry, Dan. I wish it could be easier for you.” He sounded genuinely apologetic as he crouched to his victim’s level, but it didn’t stop Dan from beginning to shake again, leaning away as Phil tugged gently at his blanket. “Up, now. We... better do this in my room, not here. Until it gets easier, yeah? ...Up.”

Dan didn’t move. Instead, he regarded the black-haired man with unease, peering at him warily from beneath the duvet. 

Phil sighed. “Have it your way,” he said, before promptly grabbing a bit of the duvet and yanking it, easily sending Dan spinning onto the empty bed. He laughed loudly, his tongue poking out to one side in an innocent way, until he caught sight of Dan cowering, blanketless, on the sheets. 

Insanely, Dan had the urge to laugh, too. But it was far away, almost as though it wasn’t _his_ impulse, and it rotted in his stomach as he pushed it down with the thought of what was to come. He glanced to the hand Phil was clenching, only to see another glint of metal; he tasted bile. 

“Sorry,” Phil said again, dropping the duvet. Did he ever stop apologizing?

Dan didn’t offer his forgiveness as he willed himself to stand up next to his captor. He didn’t want a struggle; he knew he wouldn’t win, anyway. It would be easier this way. Especially if what was in Phil’s hand was what Dan thought it was.

Wordlessly, he followed Phil across the dark hallway, approaching the other room’s entrance, unable to see anything but the next door in the light from his bedroom. So, this was where Phil kept his experiments? Or was it? Were there more snakes, weird instruments? Were there other people he’d captured? Dan had no idea what to prepare himself for as Phil turned the knob and eased the door aside. 

Dan halfway expected the room to be some impromptu laboratory set up by a mad scientists, with equipment and bloodstains and sharp objects strewn about everywhere. Instead, as Phil flicked the light on, he was surprised to see a bed with a wicker frame and a blue and green checkered duvet that matched the one in his room; there was a computer in one corner, and a large picture of Howl’s Moving Castle and the dresser, and... socks. Lots of unorthodox patterned socks lying alone in random areas. And another blacked out window, so he _still_ couldn’t tell what time it was. The room, like too many other things so far, was familiar.

In fact, Dan would have thought it was an average, normal, nerdy bedroom if there hadn’t been a thin, fold-out deck table in the corner with thick, intimidating leather straps. 

Immediately, he froze; but he was already inside the doorframe, and in an instant, Phil had closed and locked the door behind him. Dan whirled around as fast as he could and reached out to try his luck with the door handle, but not before Phil had a good hold around his middle, yanking him away and knocking the wind out of him. Dan’s hand closed around nothing as he was dragged toward the corner.

Faster than the blink of an eye, he felt his back colliding with with a plasticky, flat surface as he was shoved onto the dreaded table; one second, he watching the door over Phil’s shoulder, and the next, he had full view of the ceiling as Phil held him down. He barely even had time to squirm before a strap was pulled around his midsection, then another across his shoulders, and, finally, one over his thighs. It was all happening too fast to comprehend.

Dan opened his mouth and sucked in a breath to scream-- only to instantly choke on something cottony as it was crammed past his lips. The noise in his throat was muffled instantly. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Phil murmured incessantly as he secured the straps tighter, his eyes thick with worry. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, but I can’t have you screaming, and I can’t have you kicking about. I have neighbours.”

“Hrrrh!” Dan protested from behind his gag, his eyes wild and nearly rolling with terror. It was almost _hilarious_ that Phil thought of neighbours at a time like this, when he had stalked and kidnapped someone and was literally strapping them down to do-- to do-- what, exactly? _Oh my God_. 

“Sorry.” Phil stood back, surveying his work, before plopping himself down on the bed. Dan turned his head to follow the movement, almost grateful that he was allowed at least that much mobility. “It’ll be a bit better soon, any minute now. You should signal me with a...” Phil thought for a moment. “Well, I’ll just ask you questions, and you can nod, okay?”

Nod? His fear began to mix with anger and indignation, and Dan’s “fuck you” that he meant to shout came out a strangled “Huh houh!”

Nevertheless, Phil seemed to understand. He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry. It’ll get better each time, I promise. Well, it’ll get worse for a little bit, actually. But after that, then it’ll get better, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

Dan panted against the cloth in his mouth, struggling to spit it out or at least move it so he didn’t feel like he was on the verge of choking, but it didn’t budge. He twitched experimentally in his restraints, only to find they wouldn’t give; Phil had pulled them so tight he couldn’t hardly move, and they dug into his skin through his clothing. 

“I made this myself,” Phil explained as he watched, unfazed. “I actually built it after one of my... Well...” He cut himself off, considering his words. “I had a... guest over, who was helping me with... um... Well, I was trying to be hospitable...”

_Hospitable, my ASS_. Dan knew exactly what he meant. He’d had a captive, the captive had probably struggled during one of Phil’s... experiments... _dear God_. Why had Phil even brought it up in the first place? He was frowning to himself now like he wished he hadn’t mentioned it at all. Dan made a noise of protest, begging Phil with his eyes to stop there. He didn’t want to know what other horrors had possibly occurred on this table. 

“Um... Maybe we’ll save that for another day!” He blinked whatever horrible memories he was reliving away and smiled at Dan reassuringly. “For now, let’s just tackle today. Do you feel anything unusual?”

“Huh houh!”

“Dan.” Phil’s cheerful demeanor dropped and he rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to get anywhere unless you communicate with me. We have to establish trust.”

Dan gave him a furious look. _Trust?!_ _Oh, yeah. Real easy to trust someone who strapped you down to a motherfucking--_

“I understand it’s hard right now, but think about it. I’ve given you a place to stay, I’ve given you a bed, I have all the food that you could want-- you don’t even have to worry about money, or jobs, or any of those things. And I’m giving you a brand new life! Your old one was pretty... boring, wasn’t it? I know you. You were depressed.”

Dan glared at him, imagining what he was going to do to Phil if he ever got the chance; but something tingled in his stomach, a kind of peace that made it hard to concentrate on hating Phil. Hatred was... it was too much effort in a world that was so... so... good. He looked away from Phil, finding it much more comfortable to straighten his neck and stare at the ceiling, as the feeling creeped into his arms and legs pleasantly. He sighed into the material in his mouth almost against his will.

And then he remembered where he’d felt this feeling before, the only time he had _ever_ felt this feeling before. It was pretty hard to forget. And that was at the club. It was the pill.

As he started to panic, he thought he heard something. A voice. Several voices. His eyes widened as he recognized a couple arguing in low, angry tones, though he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying... and a child crying, and someone playing a Taylor Swift song, sounding tinny and very far away. 

All the divots and cracks and variations in paint thickness on the ceiling slowly came into sharper focus, as did the ceiling light; the cheap, plastic cover was full of tiny bugs, which he hadn’t noticed before. He could count them, even though there must have been hundreds, and he could see the layers of dust, the nicks in the plastic, even the individual lines of someone’s fingerprints the last time they changed the lightbulb. There were also little flecks of reddish brown, speckled all over the ceiling and on the bit of wall he could see, and that was probably... he didn’t want to think about that. He could actually feel the muscles in his eyes contracting to dilate his pupils as he took it all in.

He knew what was coming, and, distantly, it terrified him.

“Dan?”

“Hrr?” Dan had already forgotten that he had a gag. It surprised him, vaguely.

“Dan.” He could swear he could almost feel the way Phil’s vocal chords worked; if he concentrated, he could probably measure the amount of breath that was taken for each word. He could smell the good _Phil_ smell again, and the _old_ of the building, and the stale, faded smell of something else around the room. He didn’t want to think about that, either. “Are you feeling relaxed? Good?”

Dan paused; yes, he supposed so. He felt weird, mainly because he knew in the front of his mind that none of this was real, that it was all brought on by the pill. But he was too focused on the sensations in the back of his mind, the minuscule details in life that he never bothered to properly notice. The sensation of lots of people’s voices buzzing all at once, and the steady hmm of traffic below. The apartment was a long ways from the ground, maybe a couple of stories. He remembered that Phil had asked him a question, and he tried to shrug, but, realizing his arms were held too tightly in the restraints, settled for nodding instead.

“Are you sensing anything more than normal? Or is everything about the same?”

Dan wanted to tell Phil the flaw in his question, that it was choice instead of a yes-or-no. But he was suddenly preoccupied with the fact that somehow, he could actually _taste_ the color of the gag on his tongue; it was a faded black, nearly grey, and it was just a scrap that Phil had torn off of a larger garment, probably. An old black shirt, maybe. But he could sense colors all over his body, actually-- he knew the table underneath him was a warm, rustic maroon vinyl, and of course his shirt and jeans were black, and his pants were many different colors, too many to concentrate on. Perhaps his Sonic boxers, if he remembered right. 

He could feel colors. He could _taste_ them. And it was so ridiculous that he laughed in spite of himself. It sounded strangled.

“Sorry. I mean, are you sensing more than normal?” 

He nodded, fighting the face muscles that told him to smile. All the sudden, he felt comfortable with Phil. Like, _really_ comfortable. Like they’d known each other for years and they were all he ever wanted to know again, just like Phil said. And that... that should have scared him. But he wasn’t sure if it did, at present.

He didn’t want to look anywhere other than the ceiling; he was sure that if he did, his surroundings would be a barrage of color and sound and feelings and smells, and there might be other stains... he wasn’t sure if he could take that. So he tried to breathe evenly and kept his eyes on the too-bright ceiling light, feeling his sense of calm already starting to drain.

“That’s normal. Are you feeling any pain?”

Dan shook his head lightly. His earlier dread was like a sponge in his stomach, slowly soaking up his realizations and expanding the longer he sat there.

“Okay. Breathe, Dan. Take nice, deep breaths. Relax.” 

He knew when it was going to happen because all of the sudden, the traffic stopped buzzing from below the blacked-out window. Dust particles hung near-frozen in the air, glowing softly in the illumination from the ceiling light. The other rooms in their apartment complex fell silent. 

Now that Dan knew what was about to happen, the moment was like being at the top of the highest rollercoaster drop of his life. Or, something like that feeling when one stubs a toe, and there’s just a second or two when it doesn’t hurt before the pain kicks in. 

He could hear his heartbeat again. Steady, slow. And several muffled rhythms from the apartments around him, too. He couldn’t hear Phil’s. He felt himself tense with anticipation. 

Just as he had been expecting, the stillness shattered, time caught up in a rush of mixed sounds, and a burst of electricity shot through his veins. His fingers curled and uncurled as it passed through him, and he was left tingling, waiting. His head pounded along with his heart, and, strangely, so did his jaw. His mouth seemed to turn into a desert from an unexplainable thirst, something from last time that he’d forgotten until now. It felt somehow more pressing than it had been before.

“How does it feel now?” Phil’s voice was almost unexpected amidst all the other stimuli. “Pain?”

Dan shook his head gingerly, afraid to set anything off. 

“Euphoria?”

_Euphoria_. Yes, that’s exactly what it was. A physical euphoria. He nodded. 

They waited. Possibly some thirty seconds later (what felt like an eternity when Dan was enduring too many sights and sounds and feelings and unable to distract himself), another wave rushed through him, forcing him to draw breath sharply. 

“Remember to breathe as evenly as you can. Euphoria?”

Dan nodded and tried to remember this. 

Waiting. 

_Gasp_.

“Euphoria?”

_Nod._

_Wait._

The next time it passed through him, there was an itch, a painful itch, that seemed to lightly pick at his skin before it dissipated. He made a noise of discomfort.

“Euphoria?” 

Dan hesitated.

“Was there a bit of pain, as well?”

Dan nodded. 

“A lot?”

Dan shook his head. 

The silence between each wave was almost worse than the waves themselves. Phil sat so still he couldn’t be heard except to question Dan on how much "euphoria"or "pain" there was, so Dan’s only option was to focus on the nearly microscopic specs of what he suspected to be blood spattered on the ceiling. The pain grew, exhausting Dan’s nerves and synapses and everything in his body with each new flood of feeling, and, finally, the good disappeared altogether. 

When it did, it seemed to make the his sensitivity multiply tenfold. This time, something that could only be described as _agony_ seemed to twist and pull at every cell in his body unexpectedly, and he jerked violently. But he couldn’t get away from it; he was stuck to the goddamned table. He could run, and even if he did, there was nowhere _to_ run; the helplessness engulfed him more than ever before, and he couldn’t stop the scream that was expelled from his lungs, halted by the gag.

“Euphoria?”

Dan shook his head immediately, his neck already sore from the strain.

“All pain?” 

Dan nodded before, to his displeasure, it came back-- already. Soon, Dan knew, it would be a steady stream, and he was still thirsty; it was a slow, merciless torture. Dimly, he saw Phil stand up from the corner of his eye, and he whipped his head to the side to look. Instantly he recognized the exact shade of Phil’s pale skin, the multiple colors in what he’d previously thought was just blue eyes-- blue and green and grey and a slight hint of yellow-- the curve of his soft lips, and the glint of metal in his hand: exactly what Dan had guessed it was. A knife. He stepped closer to hover over Dan, his weapon out of sight, and Dan whimpered. 

“I want you to breathe. Breathe. Remember it will be over soon. Now, I’m going to do something and I... don’t know if this will help...” Phil had the good grace to look conflicted a second before Dan’s stomach began to tighten again. 

And there was a pain-- but not the kind he was expecting. It was a sharp sting just below the inside of his elbow, and it dragged down halfway to his wrist, making his head light with the want to run. He flinched, attempting with utter failure to move his arm out of Phil’s reach. What was he doing--?!

He didn’t have time to think about it, because the wave was spilling over him again, hard and horrible and making him spasm. When it ebbed, it didn’t leave completely; it trickled through him, infiltrating his system. His arm felt heavy, and though he struggled to look and see what Phil was doing, he found he didn’t even really have the strength to move his head. 

Abruptly, Phil’s hands were in his face, prying his mouth open-- and Dan, shocked and unexpecting, let him. The second Phil's fingers slid behind the gag and made contact with Dan’s tongue, Dan tasted it-- _red_. And metallic and disgusting and... and... Was that _blood_?

Dan screamed, in utter horror instead of pain this time, and tried to struggle against Phil’s hand. His thoughts shot around in his head like bullets-- _what the fuck what the FUCK--_ and he bit down to defend himself, but biting Phil’s hand was like biting a rock, and the force reverberated around in his already aching skull. 

Phil removed his hand, and Dan struggled to inhale again with the wad of fabric pressed that little bit farther back into his throat, trying not to retch, and he could hear Phil telling him to “Breathe, Dan! Remember to breathe!” and his body was hurting, burning slowly in rivers of Hell, and just when Dan’s vision was tunneling and he was about to give up... it started to let him go. 

The sensations lessened-- that was what he noticed first. The pain oozed away from him like blood from a scrape, leaving him lifeless and panting on the table. The colors he sensed on his skin lost their intensity, the thumping of his heartbeat softened, the walls lost their detail; the specks on the ceiling faded into nothing again. The sounds of the other tenants wound down, and he was left with only the unsteady in and out of his ragged breathing and the vision of Phil’s form leaning over him, fuzzy and unclear. 

“Breathe, Dan,” he thought he heard Phil repeating. 

Dan went limp in his restraints, the ordeal finally over, and closed his eyes, tumbling backwards into the void.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should never make promises. I don't keep them, obviously. Hopefully I'll be updating my other fic soon, too. BUT here's a new chapter!! and over 2k too, how did that happen

Unfortunately, the void didn’t take him for long. 

Dan came to probably some thirty seconds later, bleary and confused and staring at the ceiling again. Some of the pressure had been loosened from his thighs and stomach, and Phil was fiddling with the last strap. The wad of material in his mouth had disappeared.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Phil cursed under his breath as he worked, and for some unexplainable reason, it sounded out of place. Dan’s heart was pounding. Why was it pounding? He twitched his fingers, and with it came a sharp stab in his forearm and a jumble of memories that didn’t make sense-- _red blood gag hurt black red bright phil specks blood loud hurt hURT HURT HURT--_

He wanted to scream when he understood he was still in danger. He really did. But his throat felt crackly and dry and his vocal chords were sore. He jerked as the images came, groaning as every muscle in his body cried out to stay still, and Phil stood up from his crouched position over his captive. “Dan! Go back to sleep.”

Dan didn’t do anything. The blackness that lingered from unconsciousness were appealing, to be sure, but the fear that he wouldn’t survive any further experiments kept him awake. Instead of following the command, he kept himself as solid and unmoving as possible while Phil released him from the last strap. Dan briefly considered jumping up and making a break for it again, but he didn’t think he could so much as stand, let alone fend off his deadly fast kidnapper. 

Phil slid his arms under Dan’s back and legs without warning, making him tense momentarily, and the subsequent thrum of pain that ran through Dan’s being was enough to make his ears ring and his vision darken again. To his displeasure, he stayed conscious. 

“Up we go,” Phil murmured, not unkindly. He cradled Dan carefully as he made his way to the door and opened it (how, Dan didn’t know), all of his earlier roughness and violence gone as he tried not to jostle his captive. The darkness of the hallway swallowed them, soothing Dan’s eyes from the stinging brightness of Phil’s room, and soon he was being set tenderly down on his own bed, into cool sheets and soft blankets. 

The cold hands slipped away from his waist, allowing him sink into the mattress comfortably. They pulled his sheets up to his shoulders, and a finger trailed down his non-wounded arm. He didn’t react. Was it over? Why was Phil treating him like this? He could already feel his mind relaxing as he realized the suffering was postponed.

“Sit tight a moment,” Phil requested. “I’m going to get something for your arm, okay, Dan?”

Dan didn’t answer; he was already letting the gentle embrace of his duvet around him lull him back into a careless, thoughtless slumber.

 

When Dan woke again, it was to the vast expanse of absolutely nothing. No noise except a slight ringing in his ears, no light to see his surroundings. Gradually the stiffness of his exhausted body made itself known through pins and needles and aches, and the rustle of bedsheets as he experimentally flexed his fingers told him that he was still alive. 

Still alive, and somehow, unfathomably, he was safe in bed-- almost safe. The darkness still terrified him, and as he remembered his ordeal in Phil’s room, the impossibility of it all, the torture, and the thought that he might spend the remainder of his life here-- he wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t exist. There were things Phil had concocted, he was convinced, creatures living in the shadows of his new room; maybe even Phil himself was looming over his bed, watching him sleep, able to see while Dan was blind. He wished desperately to draw the duvet over his head, reverting to a childlike mind where monsters didn’t-- _couldn’t--_ exist. But he didn’t dare move. They couldn’t know he was awake. 

Dan didn’t know how long he sat there, in agony, heart beating heavily in his chest (and alerting his foes to his existence, he was certain) before there was a creak from his door, and a _flick_ of a switch, and then light was streaming into his eyes. He shut them tightly, but he couldn’t escape; even the red filtering in through his closed eyelids was too bright, too much. 

He forced himself to open his eyes little by little, cracking them so he could see what was happening. And, of course, Phil’s smiling face was there, shining more brightly and out of place than the invasive lightbulb on the ceiling. 

“Good morning, Dan,” he said softly, and Dan didn’t know whether he said it because he had just woken up or if it was actually morning. He didn’t need to glance to the window to see that it was still blacked out, but he looked anyway. Yes, it was just as he remembered. Nothing had changed. “How are you feeling?”

Dan hesitated, nearly clamming up with anxiety; what if he answered wrong? What if he’d been sleeping for an entire day and it was time to take another pill? What if Phil had come to cart him off for some other horrifying experiment? But this was _Phil_ , something in his brain told him, and for a moment, it was like waking up from a dream; the familiarity of the situation was too prominent to ignore. He was safe; this was only his flatmate, that was all. “Like hell,” he croaked out honestly. 

Phil’s expression instantly morphed into the picture of concern. He sat himself upon the bed in a fluid motion, hardly disturbing the duvet, and put a hand on Dan’s cheek. Lovingly, Dan would have said, if he didn’t know what Phil was capable of already. “Are you sore? Are you hungry? Let me make you something.”

Dan sat up a little, ignoring the protests of his body. Strangely, he noted that he was still in all his clothes, shoes and all, and his right forearm was tightly bound with some sort of bandage that itched like crazy. And it was then that he realized it. 

The dream was real. 

Phil wasn’t his flatmate. And why and he thought that?

Dan didn’t respond; he was too busy gaping at his captor ( _not_ flatmate, he reminded himself) in disbelief, adding up all the facts in his head, sorting out reality from that odd deja vu that kept cropping up from being around Phil. Phil stared back unblinkingly, waiting on Dan’s needs, no trace of malevolence on his face. 

Dan wondered briefly if this person who had offered him breakfast was really the same person that had just tied him up and cut his arm in the other room, or if any of that was real at all. 

His stomach growled. Phil raised his eyebrows, amused, and Dan realized that the only thing he’d eaten in-- how many days?-- was a bag of Malteasers. “I- I am a bit hungry,” Dan stammered, feeling like it was safe to talk, for now. 

Phil stood eagerly, grabbing Dan’s hand as he did so. “I’ll make you some eggs! Or waffles. I love waffles, but I have the feeling you don’t love them quite as much.” Dan let himself be helped out of his bed, standing gingerly and trailing Phil from the room while pondering exactly what Phil meant with the waffles comment. 

Phil led Dan downstairs and through the glass door into the kitchen (surprisingly, the lights were on), not letting go of his hand for a second as he rummaged through the refrigerator to bring out a carton of eggs. _I’m still on a leash_ , Dan thought, but with less venom this time. He didn’t have the energy to complain, and he certainly didn’t want to provoke anything ugly by pointing out something he didn’t like. Hell, he didn’t like being controlled, but that wasn’t about to change. 

He watched Phil one-handedly crack the eggs into a bowl and beat them, then pour them into the frying pan-- he made it look easy, though Dan knew that if he himself tried it, he’d end up with a hot mess. Soon, Phil had scrambled enough eggs to fill a dinner plate, and Dan’s mouth was watering from the smell. 

They shared a comfortable silence as Phil worked, Dan not daring to speak, Phil too preoccupied to start a conversation. It was almost nice, this standing here with Phil, his fingers calming and interlaced with Dan’s while the sounds of sizzling breakfast food filled the space. 

When Phil finished, he grabbed up a fork and the plate of eggs in one hand and gave Dan a tug with the other, signaling that it was time to eat. They left the kitchen and circled around to the lounge; Dan ignored the pull of his thoughts saying that this was the life he was meant to lead, that all of this was right (except for the snake tank in the corner of the room. That was still wrong).

They sat down on the sofa together, Dan’s back sinking quite comfortably into the cushions; he had a feeling he’d spend a lot of time here, had he the freedom. 

Phil set the plate of eggs into Dan’s lap and waited patiently. Dan’s face heated as he realized he’d be monitored, even in this, and that he’d probably have to eat one-handed.

“Um... Are you going to eat anything?” Dan inquired, hoping he sounded polite.

Phil seemed to chuckle at some private joke, and it crossed Dan’s mind that the maniac was probably still playing into the vampire facade. Or, maybe he was crazed and really did drink blood-- Dan subconsciously brought his hand up to the bandage he still had on his neck, remembering when Phil had bitten down there with as much force as he could muster.

Someone had actually bitten him on the neck. Someone had actually tied him to a table and it had felt like real torture. Someone had _kidnapped_ him and was holding him and feeding him drugs. Someone had cut his arm (had it been to drink the blood? Dan hadn’t thought of that). And that someone had just made him eggs and was sitting next to him, holding his hand. 

Dan started to shake.

“Hey, now,” Phil soothed, giving Dan’s fingers a squeeze. The shaking stopped instantaneously, but Dan wasn’t calmed enough as Phil’s thumb continued to stoke the back of his hand. His stomach felt like an empty cavern and his head like a dead phone line, his arm was still itching, and _damn_ , did he feel like sleeping for another six thousand years; how could he focus on eating when all he really wanted to do was cease to exist?

Phil jumped up all the sudden, disentangling himself from Dan’s hand. The captive’s arm plopped back on the sofa with a dull _thwump_. 

“I know what’ll cheer you! I have something. A surprise for you.” He laughed as Dan shrank back against the cushions. “A _good_ surprise, silly! Tell you what.” He leaned down to Dan’s level like he was about to reveal a coveted secret. “I’ll get your surprise ready while you eat your eggs, and if you eat all of them, you can see it.” 

Dan sighed. He _knew_ he was being treated like a child, coddled in a way, but he hated to think what would happen if he refused to play Phil’s game. He wasn’t ready for any more “surprises”, but he assumed he’d see it eventually whether he fought it or not. “Okay,” he acquiesced reluctantly.

Phil rubbed his hands together, positively beaming. “I was going to wait until you’d been here a while, but since you’ve been so good... oh, you’re going to love it! Just you wait.” And with that, he scurried out of the lounge without a sound.

Dan wasn’t sure when Phil would come back, or what Phil would do if the plate wasn't clean when he reappeared, so Dan began to shovel the eggs in as fast as they would go, feeling his stomach recoil a little at the input. He finished them in what he felt was record time, his neck and arms aching from the strain already, and Phil reentered just moments later.

“All ready,” he trilled, sweeping by Dan and whisking the empty plate from his lap. “And I see you’ve finished! Very good, Dan.” Phil seemed genuinely pleased, and something in Dan relaxed at the tone. The more Phil was happy with him, the less difficult his life would be. Phil set the plate down for now and grabbed a hold on Dan’s hand again, eyes sparkling. “Are you ready?”

Dan didn’t feel he had a choice in the matter, but Phil was still gazing at him expectantly for his consent; he was too afraid there’d be hell to pay if he said no. “Y-yep,” he mumbled, nervous. 

Phil smiled encouragingly, his face soft. “Don’t worry. You’ll love it. I promise.” 

Dan allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs again and into the hallway where their bedrooms were, momentarily stricken by the very real possibility that they could be heading to Phil’s room for another experiment. But at the last second, they turned to stand in front of Dan’s. 

Phil cast an excited glance over to Dan, probably wishing to prolong the anticipation; it was working. Dan felt like he was going to be a shivery mess of dread soon if his captor didn’t end the suspense. 

“Surprise!” Phil called out, and the door swung open. Dan would have been startled by the fact that Phil hadn't touched the door, but something warm had wrapped around his heart at the sight that met his eyes. 

Just inside his room, sitting innocently against a wall, was a worn-down and beautiful piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts on whats going on here??


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO okay I know it's been months and months since I updated last. I keep promising things and I am the WORST, I would have killed me about a dozen times by now if I was one of you. Some really rough things happened that I couldn't really control (I came out to my friends and family, my friend'd dad died, my grandpa died, I got fired, I went through a breakup, and now I'm moving again!! Fun times), but things have kind of settled down and life is good again. Hopefully (no promises because if I make a promise I KNOW I won't keep it) I'll be able to continue updating this story more often and work on some others I've had ideas for. Thank you so much for you guys who are sticking with me, your comments and kind words are what made me want to come back to this community and keep writing. Y'all are truly amazing and I love you! <3

 

Dan couldn’t look away; his eyes were glued to the thing. All other aspects of the room-- the blacked out windows, the too familiar duvet, the empty bag of malteasers-- they all went out of focus as his senses narrowed in on it.He could have sworn he’d seen it before; the memory was inching into his consciousness like an old, unlabeled record spinning to life for the first time in decades, or the stale perfume that had lingered in a house weeks after its original inhabitant had passed. He had his mouth open slightly to ask where Phil had found his old piano before realizing he really, _really_ hadn’t seen it in his life. It was just another familiar thing, tied down to impressions of memories he did not have.

It wasn’t anything spectacular. Just an upright Challen that looked older than the hills, unless the scratches and dings in the wood spoke more about how much use it’d gotten and not its years. Dan had the feeling that it knew something he didn’t; the piano was not just an inanimate object, an innocent bystander who had no bearing on its present predicament or the people around it. No, it had experienced things. It had seen a little piece of humanity it its time, more that he had. And it recognised Dan, too. It knew him. It remembered what he did not. 

A sonnet of silence drew on, heavy with something just out of Dan’s comprehension. Just Dan and Phil, hands interlocked, Dan rooted to the spot not only by the shock of the gift before him, but because he had no way to escape the piano’s probing essence even if he felt well enough to try. Phil’s hand served as a physical reminder of that fact. 

And the piano observed without comment. 

Goosebumps broke out on Dan’s skin.

“...Do you like it?” Phil asked hesitantly, a hint of uncertainty hushing his tone. It broke the weird stare-off between them and the piano, and Dan had the feeling that if it were a person, the Challen would have turned away with disinterest, picking at its fingernails, knowing it was not going to be spoken to. Dan wasn’t sure if its demeanor was arrogant, or if it was simply waiting for him to be enlightened.

“Uh. Yeah,” Dan said automatically, because what else was he supposed to say? It wasn’t a surprise that Phil knew about Dan’s deep-seated love of music; he knew virtually everything else, after all. _Just add it to the list_. He just didn’t know why Phil had this in his house.

Phil beamed. “I knew you would. Now you can play something. Whenever you like. You might get bored up here sometimes.”

Dan tried not to think too much about how long he’d have to stay here, holed up in this room, being fed malteasers and eggs and little red pills of an untrustworthy origin, to be so bored as to get over his stage fright and play the piano in front of a total stranger. He stopped himself, too, from considering how many times he’d play that piano in the next few... weeks? Months? Maybe even years. His arms started to shake again as he thought of the thing staring at him in his bed while he was asleep, watching him, its keys a set of teeth grinning at him and letting him know he wasn’t alone. Why had he seen it before?

“Where’d you get it?” Dan finally asked. He preferred not to wonder how Phil had gotten it into the room, too, when there was no other place to store it on this floor. He wouldn’t have doubted that Phil carried it in with as little ease as he had slinging Dan over his shoulder in the alleyway, at this point. 

“Came with the apartment.” Phil sighed, seemingly reminiscent. “The landlord didn’t seem like he wanted to keep it, but I thought it just... fit with the place.” He smiled at it, almost adoringly. The piano didn’t respond. “Especially in this room. I knew it was for you, Dan. That’s why I kept it. And now, it can be passed to its rightful owner.”

It should have been a nice gesture. It should have been. And it was, Dan supposed. But Dan couldn’t forget that long vinyl deck table with straps waiting for him in Phil’s room, nor the cut on his arm and the bandage on his neck, nor the reptile tank in the living room that made this all so, so wrong. Why was Phil keeping him here, why was Phil giving him things? Was it so Dan would stay? Was it to win Dan’s trust? 

Phil must have sensed the storm brewing in Dan’s head, for he frowned and squeezed his captive’s hands. Dan felt an instant of calm; but only that, washed away in the next second with a tide of anxiety. “Do you need to be alone?”

Dan’s mouth opened. The consideration imbued within the question caught him entirely off guard; who was this person, standing with him in a doorway, holding his hand and intuiting his needs? Not anyone that would harm him, surely. At least, that’s what went through Dan’s head the moment after the words left Phil’s mouth. 

In the time it took to process the question fully, Dan almost said yes. But he knew the gentle caring in his captors tone was a trap. His captor was just that-- a captor. If Phil left him, he’d be stuck inside this room with nothing but a possibly sentient piano, blacked out windows, and no means of release. No, he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts in here, alone in his captivity. Plus, Phil’s hand was grounding him to the floor, the only thing constant in the onslaught of emotion and familiarity and confusion; otherwise, he felt as though he may pass out.

In fact, he might. 

He’d never understood exactly how someone’s knees could give way until he experienced it for himself in that moment. His fingers began to shake, his head swam, and his legs buckled. But he didn’t fall; when he blinked, he was surprised to find himself looking up into Phil’s blue eyes, cradled in the gentle grip of a man who had only harmed him...

“Sorry,” Phil murmured, as though he were softly disturbing the sanctity of a holy moment. “Too much?”

Yes, it was. But Dan wasn’t going to say that, was he? He didn’t know what Phil would do if he said that. Take him back to his room, maybe. Dan wouldn’t escape that torturous end either way, but he had a feeling it might be worse if he stood up to Phil in any way. He had to be pliant; his sanity depended on it. 

Dan didn’t say anything, instead pretending to be too faint to respond. Phil’s icy hands did not tighten, but Dan didn’t dare struggle. The threat that slumbered dormant under his captor’s touch was enough to freeze him solid. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil said again, brow furrowing with worry. “Maybe we should have waited a bit for the food to process. You’re so weak.”

Though Dan was over six feet tall and probably far too heavy for someone so lanky and unmuscled to carry, Phil cradled him lovingly and set him down on the bed, so gently that Dan hard;y felt it. The pillow welcomed Dan’s aching head as though it knew his exhaustion; the piano watched over them from the side of the room, not caring to give its opinion. Dan’s head clouded with fog. 

“Oh dear. I haven’t given you any water, have I? You’re probably dehydrated. And all that sugar...” Phil’s eyes swept over the bag of malteasers on the bedside table. Then they turned their light back to Dan. “I’m sorry, Dan. I should have thought about that. I’m really bad at... I haven’t... I’m not used to taking care of anyone.” He cringed at his own words. “But I’ll do better for you, I promise. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Dan blinked, and Phil was gone, the door closed and most likely locked behind him. Not that Dan could have even thought about escape. Phil was right; he was weak. He had been malnourished, he had no idea what time or day it was, and his body had been through hell. Phil had said that Dan would need to take the pill every day now... so, was it the next day? Had Dan slept long enough that the time was growing near? Would he feel withdrawal symptoms first? Was he already feeling them, was that was this light-headedness and fatigue was?

Dan turned his head and glanced at the piano, and for some reason he expected it to have a mocking air, witnessing his predicament. It had come from Phil, after all. But upon seeing it, Dan could tell it wasn’t Phil’s and had never been-- it was unbiased, just here for the show. It was a part of the scene, yet removed, in a way. It probably preferred it that way. 

Dan swallowed and looked away, choosing to stare at the dingy ceiling light (in considerably less detail than he had seen the light in Phil’s room) instead. _It’s a piano_ , Dan reminded himself. _It can’t think. It’s wood and ivory and steel strings._ All the same, Dan couldn’t help but feel it was still taking in his every move, ready for some moment, some sign that he wasn’t ready for, and politely interested in the outcome of Dan’s choices. 

The only thing that alerted him to Phil’s presence was the squeak of the door on its hinges when the older man came back. Phil crouched down close to Dan and held out a glass of water, and Dan sat up to take it gratefully, tasting it once before gulping it down without finesse. A droplet slipped out of the corner of his mouth to leak down his neck onto his collarbone, and Phil watched its progress with fascination. 

Dan took a steadying breath when he drained the glass; he hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was. Something in his throat tickled, a craving for something else other than water, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. But for now, he simply handed the glass back to his captor, who took it without comment. 

“Thank you,” Dan rasped, still feeling airy from Phil’s idea of a “surprise”. Phil seemed to light up as he smiled. 

“Of course.” Phil stood again, glass in hand. “If you need more, you can just ask... I don’t feel that I can trust you with reign of the flat just yet.”

Dan didn’t argue. The fact that he might be able to leave this room by himself at all sparked some kind of weird happiness in him. He supposed that this small expansion of personal freedom shouldn’t have excited him; confinement was confinement, and he still couldn’t leave the apartment. But the statement let him have some glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Phil could decide to let him out someday. He might not be stuck in here forever, not if he could help it. H had to get Phil to trust him. And if he had to work to please Phil every step of the way-- so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really go through this before I posted it and there are probably typos (I really should start reviewing shit. I have a continuity error in one of my other stories where Dan and Phil order takeout and never eat it and omg y'all won't let it go). LIKE I SAID no promises on when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully it won't be months and months from now like the last one. Love you guys!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kinda got non con at the end, just a warning. This fic is probably going to get more fucked up as it goes along but I'll try not to make it too dark. ANYWAY thanks for putting up with my unproductive ass and I hope you enjoy this! I'll try to update again soon but we all know how that's going to go

Dan tried to sleep again. He really tried. 

But relaxing enough, now that he wasn’t fighting the urge to pass out, was impossible given the thought that Phil might walk in at any minute; he came and went as he pleased, and as much as this might give the feel and appearance of a place that was Dan’s own... well. This room belonged to Phil, and so, it seemed, did Dan. He had no more freedom here than a pet. Plus, the piano stood silent sentinel next to the door, and Dan had no idea whose side it was on. He had no idea what time of day it was, and therefore had no sense of whether it was time to sleep or not; he was tired, that was for sure. But he wasn’t sure if it was the kind that would lead to drifting off, or if it was simply exhaustion eating at his resolve to be alive.

(It was the latter) 

He sat awake on the bed for a long time, lights on, too afraid that the piano would be standing over him the minute he turned them out. Every once in a while, his eyes would slide out of focus, and for a moment in time it seemed that there were decorations on the walls, perhaps a string of lights on the headboard, a computer on the desk, and, once, he even thought he could make out a tripod in the far corner. All of these were hallucinations, he figured, brought on by trauma and fatigue.

He wondered if his mother had tried to call him, if Julia had wondered about his well-being, if anyone had thought about him since he’d been taken. If Tesco was calling him right now, demanding to know where he’d been for... shit, he didn’t know how long. Two or three days, maybe. It made him cringe to think about, even if it didn’t matter much at the moment. Maybe his boss would actually pause to worry about him and alert the police that he was missing. 

All of these seemed too hopeful to be true. Surely, his boss would think Dan had quit his dead-end job without a trace, Julia would see Phil some time and Phil would tell her some lie about how Dan was just fine, and Dan would be dead by the time anyone would come looking for him. Maybe they’d find him partially devoured by Phil’s snake, maybe they’d find him deathly white and drained of blood strapped to Phil’s vinyl deck table, maybe they’d find his skeleton in a year when he had died from neglect or exhaustion and rotted in the corner.

The threat of starvation seemed very real to Dan as he stared at the ceiling, contemplating his predicament as his stomach rumbled painfully. In light of the two measly things he’d been given to eat (only a bag of malteasers and a plate of eggs in the last few days), he didn’t imagine he’d have an easy time staying conscious if Phil put him through anything else. The lightheadedness from seeing the piano had not abandoned him since Phil had let him “have some space” in his room by himself (“I can get that, Dan. I think you’re the sort of person who needs time to think about things,” Phil had said before he’d left), and his head was throbbing from the abuse his body had taken nonstop since he’d arrived. 

Who ever thought a tiny, inconspicuous pill would have led him to all this trouble? _Don’t do drugs, kids,_ Dan thought to himself grimly. 

In his flat, when his girlfriend was tied up at work and he’d wait for hours on end for her to come over to his place like she’d promised, or when she was out of town on business or visiting family, or when he simply wanted to bask in the silence of his empty room and feel how _alone_ he really was-- he hadn’t been bored. Well, he had, but he’d found ways to occupy himself pretty quickly after the first panic attack from what he referred to as an “existential crisis”. He’d done it since he was fifteen or sixteen; when the ever present promise of death and the unknown abyss of the infinite knocked on his proverbial door, threatening to tear down the sanctuary he’d built up in his head, he knew how to distract himself. He’d surf the internet for hours, make different names for himself and talk to people online, scroll through social media, find shows on netflix, watch videos. Something in particular about watching youtube intrigued him in a melancholy sort of way, and he’d always tended toward that outlet over everything else.

But now, he didn’t have the internet. He didn’t have anything. Even a book would have been fine, but alas, the only thing in his room was the piano. And he’d be damned if he’d succumb and play that thing, let alone touch it.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been before the latch clicked and the door creaked on its hinges again, Phil entering as quietly as a ghost. Dan knew without looking up that it was his captor’s shadow falling across his bed. 

“Your stomach’s growling,” Phil said pleasantly. Dan jumped. “I can hear it through the whole flat. I thought you might want something more to eat than just eggs, if you’re feeling better.” Dan nodded, not making eye contact, somewhat reluctant to see what was in Phil’s eyes. “Excellent! Then we can take your pill again, Dan. It’s easier when your stomach isn’t so empty... I think.”

Phil grasped his hand again, and they were up and away, out the door again, down the hall, into the front room. Dan kept expecting to see some kind of daylight or signs of life out the windows, but they were blacked out, just as before. Briefly he thought that it might not be to keep others from seeing in; if Phil truly believed himself to be an otherworldly creature, he might be afraid of sunlight. 

Dan gave himself a mental note to take a closer look at his window later when he had time; if he could somehow get a view into the outside world, especially if there was daylight, he might be at an advantage. Whether he had to chip away paint, peel back a covering, or try to pry the window up somehow, he’d do it. He’d find where he was. 

If Phil ever left him alone long enough to do it. 

 

Dan’s second true meal was much the same as the last; Phil cooked on the stove with one hand, his other holding fast to Dan’s to make sure they remained attached, and Dan looked on silently. Except, this time, Phil made toasted cheese instead of eggs, and there was the knowledge that just after this they’d be going upstairs to endure another session of horrors. If Phil’s hand didn’t have the abnormal soothing effect on his captive’s nerves, Dan feared his chest would be eaten hollow by fear. 

Instead, his mind worked overtime to figure out a way he could possibly get out of this as he watched the cheese melt. He could feign not feeling well, or claim to be too weak, but from what Phil had said earlier, he’d feel worse if he didn’t take the pill. Fighting was out of the question; even if Dan was at full health (which he wasn’t. He felt beaten, cloudy, and fatigued to the extreme), he’d be no match for Phil’s strength. And even if he did end up going against Phil, and even if he had a chance... something inside told him the combat wouldn’t last. He’d see a flash of those blue eyes and it’d be all over. _You can’t hurt someone you love._

He tried to shake off this unwarranted thought and stepped out of his captor’s way as Phil moved to grab a dish from the cupboard above their heads. Phil smelled like heaven still. Not like cologne, but familiar... like... like... _home_. Dan shuddered, and his captor cast a glance his way before scooping the toasted cheese onto a plate, nudging his captive gently aside so he could get the door. Dan followed, linked by Phil’s hand.

They sat on the couch again, and Dan settled into the same crease. Only, it wasn’t a crease, exactly. It felt like it should have been; but _everything_ in this apartment felt like it should have been something, only slightly off. 

“You’re thinking,” Phil remarked as Dan squinted at the snake’s tank, trying to discern what made it so out of place, instead of taking a bite of his food right away. 

“Yeah. I guess,” Dan mumbled. He took a bite of the toasted cheese, and his eyes actually watered. His stomach almost hurt from hunger, he realized, but the feeling steadied itself after the first bite went down. Phil’s statement almost passed by without any further comment, and Dan began to relax; he didn’t want to divulge any of his inner thoughts to this stranger, but he knew if Phil asked, he would give the answers anyway. The uncomfortable level of familiarity was enough to set him on edge, and Dan almost struggled to remind himself that this man was capable of terrible, terrible things. Almost. 

“Are you wondering why you belong here?”

Dan sucked in a surprised breath, thankfully not choking in the process. “I don’t belong here,” he said immediately. 

Phil looked taken aback. “You do, though. So do I.” He sighed, agitated, and ran his fingers through his fringe with the hand that wasn’t clutching Dan’s. “...You must feel it. Tell me you do.”

Dan swallowed. He didn’t want to give this creep any kind of material to work with, to be able to manipulate him in any way. But he couldn’t deny the goosebumps that broke out over his skin at Phil’s words. Phil squeezed his hands, and a rush of comfort, of better times, flooded Dan’s senses for a moment. “Yeah,” Dan admitted before he could think through the feelings, for a split second seeing things as they were supposed to be: the curtains open, the television on, sitting together with Phil on the couch, their knees touching. 

More goosebumps. 

The vision cleared, and Dan was looking into Phil’s eyes, pupils that were deep and black, like space and the universe and everything Dan knew. But they were wrong. They held none of the answers Dan needed. Dan felt his mind go slack looking for them, losing himself.

Phil leaned forward, and Dan closed his eyes, unsure of what exactly was happening. Their lips connected easily. Dan felt himself drawn into the pull, washing away with the tide as Phil’s mouth moved against his. Air filled his head like helium, making his balance dip and ebb like he was floating, connected only to Phil.

Phil’s unoccupied hand ran up Dan’s leg, continued up past his waist, up his ribs, over his chest, and to his neck. Phil’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. 

And so did something else. Something round and hard, like a small sweet. Phil deposited it there before his tongue slithered away.

And in that moment, Dan saw the trap. 

His eyes flew open, but Phil noticed his awareness and his hands tightened, both on Dan’s hand and the base of his throat. Dan gave a strangled, “mmmph!”, but Phil only pushed higher to just below his jaw, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake, keeping Dan’s mouth closed. 

Phil raised his head, disconnecting their lips, and Dan gasped for air through his nose. “Swallow,” Phil commanded darkly. There was remorse in his eyes, but they were hard and flat and devoid of much else. Dan knew he wouldn’t win. 

He swallowed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goddddddd I'm so sorry about my updating skills, they're horrible. Especially when the chapter ends up being so short. Anyway I might have spelled some things wrong in here because it's late and I don't really want to edit (but I know if I leave it until tomorrow I'll never post) so imma just post it. Enjoyyyyy and hopefully another chapter will go up soon but you know

Dan’s adam’s apple bobbed below Phil's fingers. Phil’s grip loosened, and Dan panted from the rush of air to his lungs. The hand didn’t leave his neck, though, and Dan knew it was a threat still. Even as he felt the pill traveling down his throat with the promise of soon giving a sickening sort of new life to his innards, he felt an intruding finger probing into his mouth. He gave a whine, but stayed still as it ran across his teeth, under his tongue, across his gums, making sure the pill was swallowed. His eyes stayed trained on the ceiling, mouth agape, somewhat reminiscent of being in the dentist’s chair during an exam. When it finally retracted, Dan felt himself relax significantly. 

“Good, Dan,” Phil murmured, sitting back a little, evidently satisfied.. He showed no sign of emotion, no indication that the kiss had even happened; his eyes were wide and blank and blue as before, studying, taking in everything. “Perhaps sometime soon you’ll be able to take your pill on your own.” Phil rose, and the hand still resting on Dan’s neck simply traveled down his arm to interlace their fingers again, never breaking contact, leaving no doubt about who was the dominant figure here. Phil tugged. Dan didn’t think twice about disobeying this unspoken command; he stood up at once, though his legs burned and his temples beat in time with his heart at the sudden action. He swayed, body threatening to collapse as blood rushed to his head. “Come on,” Phil said gruffly as he pulled Dan forward. Dan’s foot caught on the carpet and he faltered once, twice, then managed to steady himself as his captor strode on purposefully toward the bedrooms, his subject stumbling in tow. 

When Phil opened the door to his bedroom (Dan almost expected him to snap his fingers like some magician or supernatural being, not turn the knob like a normal bloke), the scene inside was much the same as Dan remembered. The vinyl deck table in all its green, grimy glory, straps ready to cage him in for his next episode of horrors; the wicker bed frame that Dan hadn’t hadn’t paid much mind the last time he was here, with the duvet that matched the one in his own room (the duvet had the right feeling too, but so wrong in these circumstances); the picture of Howl’s Moving Castle that he remembered, along with some other scenes from anime he recognized; more socks on the floor than last time. A glance to the ceiling told him that his senses weren’t good enough yet to see the dried blood that he decoratively spackled the paint. 

They would be, soon. 

Phil didn’t have to throw him onto the table this time; Dan sat on it of his own volition, knowing there was no fight he could win here. Phil pressed gently on his chest and Dan repressed a shudder, lying down compliantly and letting Phil’s deft, slender fingers strap him down within a matter of seconds. Unbidden, Dan’s mind played a rollercoaster operator’s parting words before the ride: _KEEP YOUR HANDS AND FEET INSIDE THE CART AT ALL TIMES._ He shooshed it away almost frantically and tried to calm his breathing. Dan could either resist and recreate the scene from yesterday, the threat of violence looming were he to disobey any of Phil’s commands, or he could accept his fate (at least for one more day) and try to distract himself with thoughts of getting out of here. Until he figured something out, it was his only option. When Phil held up the same wad of black material and pressed it to Dan’s lips, Dan allowed himself only a brief pleading look at his captor-- who was all innocent, hard blue eyes, insistent-- and then he opened his mouth obediently, hating himself, taking what was given to him. His stomach roiled at the submissiveness in his own behavior, at the way that he let Phil do what he wanted with him, at what it felt like to be completely controlled.

Phil sat noiselessly, and Dan’s thoughts bounced around, charged with anxious energy now that all he had to do was sit and wait. How many minutes had it been? Three? Five? Two? How long until the pill started effecting him? He couldn't remember if it had been five minutes, or more like ten. Or fifteen. How long had it taken Phil to restrain him last time? Surely longer than this. Or did he have only seconds left? He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, he couldn’t remember how much time he’d spent trapped and frenzied in here before, waiting.

While Dan focused on the ceiling, trying to see if he had those ominous super senses yet, Phil picked something up from the bedside table, something thin and rectangular-- a mobile phone. Dan strained to see it, bound just as tightly as last time. 

“Music seemed to help some of the others,” Phil mused, almost more to himself than to Dan, and once again Dan pictured a faceless, bloody victim strapped to the same table, mouth open in a terrible screech. “It’s a powerful thing, you know. You liked Muse when you were in school.” It wasn’t a question, and Dan didn’t answer. “Hmm. Which one though...”

As Phil scrolled through what must have been YouTube or some other medium on his phone, Dan felt the first sliver of unearthly calm worm through his nerves, starting from his chest and inching its way down his arms and legs, into his fingers and toes, melting into his muscles despite his instinct to run, to flee, and to fight if necessary. He felt himself sink into the table, and with the blanket of serenity settling over him, he suddenly knew something. Perhaps it was because his captor’s defenses were down while searching for a song, perhaps it was because the microscopic blood specks were coming into sharp focus and Dan was wondering what else he could see, too. Perhaps it was because he was waiting for something like this, looking for it. Maybe it had to do with the piano. In fact, Dan got the distinct impression that the piano knew exactly what was going on even though it was in the next room. But, suddenly, Dan could read the information in the air like a book. He couldn’t feel it, or even really sense it, but the facts presented themselves to him as readily as if he’d been looking to see what color of shirt Phil had been wearing. _You liked Muse, too_ , he wanted to say, and he knew without having to think about it that it was true. _Your mum hated it when you played that kind of music in the house because you were growing up to be a strange boy, and sometimes in your videos you would play your music and act or sing along and hope that someone would watch, see, know you, but no one did because you stopped when--_

“Ah, here we go,” Phil hummed, and Dan heard the audible tap as he pressed the screen of his mobile, not one sound but dozens of them as every line of his thumbprint made contact with the glass. His shirt rustled against his skin as he set the phone down on his lap. The stream of data that Dan had been receiving from who knew what source fell silent as his captor’s eyes dropped to him again. 

The familiar, nostalgic tune of a song from Dan’s long ago favorite Muse album began to rattle through the speakers of Phil’s mobile, every instrument vibrating against Dan’s eardrums in a different way. He wished the speaker were better so he didn’t notice the way they shook where the bass was too low, so the quality of the recording would be clearer. But, as it was, this may have been the most beautiful, most appreciated music he’d ever listen too-- the beat, the melody, everything about even just the few opening chords was sending his skin tingling in a way he’d never experienced, not even during another one of his happy-little-pill-induced highs. This was something else entirely. 

When Matt Bellamy began to sing, Dan could discern exactly what he was saying, even though in the past he could never get through the warbling vibrato and megaphone filter effect enough to understand his lyrics.

_Hands are red with your blame_

“Focus on it,” Phil breathed softly, making Dan miss the next words. Dan let his eyes close, his eyelashes tickling his lower lids pleasantly. 

_Whimpers someone I should have loved_

Something was building, deep inside, and Dan was ready for it. All traces of his anxiety had gone, and he and Phil were here, together, as they were always meant to be. 

Was this how it was meant to be? No... was it? He couldn’t think through the fog and the now ever-growing tide in his stomach. Something was coming. 

_Souls weeping above_

The music was reaching a peak, building with him, and the guitars were getting louder, he was ready--

And everything stopped. He was deaf; his ears weren’t even ringing. He opened his eyes to see that the particles in the air visible in the light of the dingy, dust-covered ceiling light were halted again. The music wasn’t playing, and Phil was frozen, eyes open and unblinking, not even twitching: a pale white mannequin in a place it wasn't supposed to be. Dan knew the wave was cresting. 

It crashed into him, and the music came back full force along with the same all-consuming rush that Phil had so aptly titled _euphoria_. Dan gasped for air as it washed through him, struggling not to get lost in it. Matt Bellamy was screaming.

_I’VE SEEN WHAT YOU’RE DOING_

The tide ebbed for only a half a moment and Dan tried to relax his fists, which were clenched so tight he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, but it hit him again as soon as he had. They curled again instantly. 

_DESTROYING PUPPET STRINGS TO OUR SOULS_

He could breathe again. He took as large a breath of air as he could through his nose, trying to steady his dizzying vision before another one could arrive and rob him of oxygen. His head was pounding with the force of it and he knew that the pain would arrive soon enough; his tongue was swollen in his mouth, and the dryness seemed worse this time, somehow. The gag choked him more than before, and he coughed once, the sound ear-splitting to his heightened senses. 

But the _song_. The song was deep maroon red, the color of rich upholstery on lavish sofas, with shadows in the corners and bits of dusty gold strung here and there, and the vocals were a beautiful lace off-white dotted with holes that didn’t fit the pattern exactly, and the guitars were rough-cut, black wrought iron chunks with sharp edges. He’d never known such a thing. 

“Are you thirsty, Dan?” Phil said quietly, removing Dan from the intriguing colors and textures painted by the music. Tears pricked at the corners of Dan’s vision, hot and uncomfortable as the meaning of the question sunk in, because he knew what Phil was asking, really. This was going to be related to the vampire nonsense and Phil was going to try and see, like last time, if Dan wanted _blood_ and Dan didn’t, he just wanted some goddamn water and peace of mind. 

_A blade cuts through your brain_

The electricity within rose like bile and Dan found himself struggling not to expel the toasted cheese he’d eaten a few minutes ago because he couldn't sit up and surely he’d choke on it if he let it come up his throat and the gag was there so he wouldn’t be able to breathe anyway--

Phil got up and grabbed something and Dan didn’t know why he didn’t smell it before. Something dark, something thick, something a lot warmer than Phil or Dan was in this moment. Agony stabbed in the back of Dan’s skull with the next eruption that shot through his body, scratching down his back like nails. _It’s quicker this time_ , he noted to himself, _or maybe it’s going faster because I already know what to expect_. 

The next thing he knew, Phil’s hand had reached into his mouth and blissfully taken away the black cloth, leaving him free to take a large gulp of air. 

“Here, Dan.” Phil smiled reassuringly, hovering over him like a worried parent over a sick child, and Dan knew from the gleam in Phil’s eye that this could be nothing good. 

Phil held up a cup. Dan couldn’t see what was inside. 

“I was a bit silly last time. This should help.”


End file.
